Safe and Sound
by seductivefeline
Summary: After canon events, both Ryou and Marik are plagued by their past demons. Perhaps with the help of one another they can finally heal... Angstshipping.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** To be honest I just wanted to write an angstshipping fanfiction that had copious amounts of fluff and angst... so, here you go! The first chapter is a very short prologue.

* * *

The wet clapping of flesh on flesh mixed with the consistent creaking of the bed, creating a sensual symphony that filled the room. Everything was dampened with glistening sweat as the two bodies slid together, moans ripping the air.

_I have no right to do this._

He found himself here so often, staring down into the callous face of unforgivable contempt. Glistening crimson eyes drew him in, and soft, wet lips kept him there. Mewls of delight filled his ears, hips rutted against his own, and nails raked down his clothed back.

It hurt.

_Not as much as he's hurting._

It hurt a lot.

_I shouldn't be doing this. _

Hissing, he diverted his pain to his lower region, pushing forward, emptying his thoughts of shame. This was simply a way to liberate himself of negative feelings, and to delve into something mindless and pleasuring.

But this whole charade was the farthest thing from mindless when everything was said and done.

_This body hasn't given me permission._

Both of them let out a strangled cry of euphoria.

_I'm awful._

...

He stared up at this shadowed ceiling once again. The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he adjusted himself into an upright position. His feet touched the cold floor, and the bed creaked, though the other didn't wake.

He faced away from the other whose scrawny body curled away from him as well. His pale chest rose and fell, rhythmically, filling the room with soft snores.

_I promised I wouldn't do it again, _he mentally scolded himself. _It hurts him. It hurts me. _

He had little desire to continue the game he had conjured up, but each time he left, he was soon back for another wild night of ecstasy and release. He loved the way those slender fingers touched him, yet when it was all done and the other was gone, he felt disgusted, revolted.

He stepped across the room, the cool air making him shiver.

Clothes were on his body in minutes. When he turned, moonlight had spilled across the bed, illuminating the other's face, making it shine silver. He sighed heavily, regretting how often he swiped his body of innocence.

_This is the last time._

Then he was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

_The fire blinded him. If tears had not been dried, he would have sobbed. Unable to scream past the gag, his limbs struggled. He thrashed in place, but nothing could refrain from what was about to happen._

_ Heat was all around him. Tentacles of writhing shadow touched him. He heard the cackle of a lost voice, one that brought fear to his heart. It gripped him; kept him in place; kept him in line._

_ A few whimpers escaped his throat. He dared to turn his head, to look in the eyes of a demon._

_ There were no eyes. It had nothing but empty sockets that escaped into blackness. Wrinkled skin and exposed organs made up its decomposing body. Thin tendrils of hair spilled over its face as it leaned in, mouth pulling upwards in a crude resemblance of a sneer._

_ "You killed me," its jaw was loose and darkness spilled from his mouth. Teeth had long rotted away, and the breath that came from its throat was rancid. _

_ His eyes widened, and he struggled more, but a decayed hand rested on his back._

_ "You are scared," it hissed. "You should be, my son." There were no lips, but its face held a barbarous grin. _

_ It held a dagger over the flame that was so close, so hot. The blade turned orange against the heat, and the corpse cackled at its captive's fear. It had an air of cruelty as the blade hovered over his trembling back. _

_ The gag in his mouth held back the screams as the searing metal touched flesh._

_ His vision was made up of blood and fire, of pain and heat. The pressure beneath his lids exploded, sending him into a frenzy – _

_ – _Marik awoke. He threw himself into a sitting position, panting. Many deep breathes escaped him before he finally managed to compose himself. He pressed a hand to his frantic heart, willing it to slow down. The beating calmed beneath his palm until it was normal, and he exhaled once more before getting up and heading to the bathroom.

The whole apartment was bathed in pale, morning sunlight that streamed through the few windows.

_It's still early_, Marik thought gravely as he stood in front of the mirror. His hair was a mess, and his tank-top was drenched with sweat. There wasn't much he could do at the moment, so he dipped his head into the sink and splashed his face in cold water, still shuddering at the heat of his nightmare.

He could still feel his back burn.

Nightmares were a common and unsurprising endeavor that he had learned to deal with. Normally, they would be about his father, or the ritual he had overcome as a boy. He hung his head over the sink, droplets of water sliding from his blond locks. Sometimes, he would see his vanquished dark personality as well in his nightmares. He shuddered at the image of his bigger, stronger look-alike. There was always a murderous glint in his cold eyes, something that was very foreign to Marik after he had been liberated from his darker half.

Marik turned off the water, padded his face dry with a fluffy towel and dragged himself into the kitchen where he heard noises. His roommate was awake now, standing on the other side of the small room, his back to him.

"'morning," Marik greeted.

The other acknowledged him with a quick glance. "Good morning."

He was silent as he padded slowly into the small, white-washed kitchen. It was plain and simple, if not a little boring for Marik's taste. "I did not wake you, did I...?"

"I was awake an hour before I heard you." He replied simply. He was making tea.

Marik felt a bit relieved of guilt. He had woken up the other man in the past with his early-morning episodes. Luckily for both of him, the chances off him being verbal were slim. Normally he would just struggle and writhe in his sleep until he fell off the couch.

He considered getting himself some breakfast, but instead he just trailed tiredly back to the couch and plopped into the cushions, curling up in a blanket. He laid there for quite a long time, staring at the back of his eyelids, numbly listening to his roommate get ready for the day.

It had been about three months since he moved in with Ryou Bakura. What started out as a week-or-two arrangement dragged on for three months, possibly more. Marik promised only to be around for a little while, but his lack of success in finding a job and a place of his own resulted in him staying far longer than either of them expected.

The beat-up couch had been his bed for quite a while. He knew Ryou was getting tired of it, or, at least, that's what he suspected. The two of them did little communication, which stung a bit, but Marik couldn't blame the other man at all.

He should be happy that Ryou was even allowing him to stay on his couch after the way he had used Ryou's body; the way he worked together with _him _during Battle City_, _and the relations he had with _him_.

It had been a long time since he had bedded _him, _and Battle City had been even longer, and yet, the air between them was tense. While they could eat dinner together at Ryou's old table, and occasionally watch a show on T.V., there was always a gaping hole between the two of them.

He exhaled. He was still not surprised.

Ryou's shuffling got louder. He was preparing to leave.

"Marik," the paler man started. Marik peeked his head over the side of the couch in time to see Ryou slipped on his jacket and slung his book-bag over his shoulder. "I have closing shift tonight. Would you mind doing the laundry...?"

Marik pursed his lips, "You know I can't work those machines, but I can try."

Ryou gave him a weak smile in thanks before rushing out the front door into the snow. Marik shuddered and curled up tighter in his blanket, hating the gust of cold air. He scowled at himself. They both knew that he had a pathetic time with the washing machine. He never did laundry for that very reason.

After all was silent, he attempted sleep. When it never came, he grunted and went for the shower. The man faced away from the mirror as he stripped and stepped into the heat of the water. He flinched when it touched his back.

The shower was quick. He washed his neck, his front, legs and arms before doing his hair. Once everything smelled like a mixture of lavender and coconut, he stopped the water and tied a towel around himself, heading into Ryou's bedroom. He kept his stuff in a single drawer of Ryou's dresser. He hadn't been too fond of it, but it was better than leaving them in his duffel bag.

A pair of purple boxers, some black jeans and a tank-top was thrown on. He scowled, looking through his few clothes, finding no long-sleeves. It was the beginning of Winter and he had no warm clothes.

But why should he, when he was from Egypt?

With a groan, he tossed the towel into the laundry bin. After visiting the kitchen, he plopped down on the couch with a bowl of strawberries, a blanket around his shoulders, and the remote.

Hours passed, and he did nothing more than laze around. This was how his days went. They were uneventful and boring. He felt like a parasite, but it was difficult for him to find a job, especially since he hadn't the slightest inkling of what he wanted to do.

The only thing he _did_ know was that he had no interest in being a Tomb Keeper. That wasn't where his destiny laid.

Though where it did lie, he did not know. He thought he knew, those nights where he laid in bed with the Spirit of the Ring_. _How foolish he had been to think that it meant more.

...

It was around ten at night when Marik realized that Ryou wouldn't be coming home. Closing shifts meant that he would usually be home around nine-thirty at the latest. If it was later, then that meant that a certain Spirithad taken over.

He grabbed his wallet (which was only good for collecting dust since he was broke) and threw on on of Ryou's jackets before leaving. There was no way he'd be home when that psychopath came crashing in half drunk in the middle of the night, which happened _at least _once a week, if not more.

Marik passed his motorcycle that stood in a dark corner of the parking lot. It hadn't been driven in a long time. It had little gas left, and there was no way he could afford to top it off constantly. Marik missed driving his baby, but there wasn't much he could do about it at the moment. He scowled, wiping some snow off of it before continuing on his walk.

Ryou would likely be a wreck in the morning.

His feet led him to the 24-hour doughnut and bakery that was about a half an hour walk from Ryou's apartment. While it wasn't the best, it was a good place to go in the middle of the night. He slipped in, being met with a sweet smell that reminded him a lot of the paler man.

"Good evening," the man behind the counter greeted. He was watching something on his phone when he stood up and welcomed Marik into the shop. "Ah, Ishtar-san."

Marik half-smirked, "I suppose you already know what I want?"

The man was already getting a bag and plopping in a few certain baked goods, "Of course. You've been getting the same order for months."

Marik pulled out his wallet, staring pathetically into it before pulling out the correct amount of yen and handing it to the employee. "You're the only place that _sells_ cream puffs so late at night."

The man took the money and smiled.

Marik took the bag and headed out, his mission accomplished. He remained out for a few hours longer, not doing much of anything except walking around and thinking about life. He passed a few suspicious folk, but nobody seemed up to messing with him that evening, which he was thankful for. He really wasn't up for a fight. While he could certainly hold his own, he couldn't take on a group of people. With a sigh, he tilted his head up, looking at the cloudy sky that glowed a faint orange from light pollution.

He missed the night sky in Egypt. While he didn't miss... certain things in Egypt, there were also things he had enjoyed and missed. The night sky was one of those things. It was always so clear, and you could see the entirety of the sky from one horizon to another. It was truly beautiful and calming.

When he first came from the tombs, he was obsessed with sky-gazing. During the day, he eagerly absorbed the sun, and at night he would sleep with the windows and curtains open. Even now, even years later, he still could hardly believe he went so long without looking at it. He checked the time and with a sigh he headed back to Ryou's apartment.

When he got home to the haphazard mess that the spirit left, Marik placed the bag on the counter, allowing Ryou to find it in the morning.

* * *

The waking world was not welcomed. The sunlight streamed in from the blinds, hurting his oversensitive eyes. He rolled away, groaning, but ended up falling out of bed.

Ryou grunted from his position on the floor, feeling his head pound unpleasantly behind his eyelids. Judging by the light, he guessed it was late morning, so he missed his early classes.

He figured there was no point in actually getting up now, at least, not until his afternoon shift. As he laid on the floor, he listened to the distant sounds of Marik stirring and walking about the small apartment. It was a late morning for the Egyptian.

Marik had been his roommate for three months now, Ryou realized dully. The more he got to know the man over the months, he realized how different he had been when he was under a negative influence. He was very curious and very energetic, though those two traits matched his complete and utter cluelessness.

Marik had little grasp on modern technology, which was unsurprising, considering where he had grown up, but the man couldn't even work a dishwasher without flooding the kitchen with bubbles. The stove had been off-limits for the the first two months after Ryou came home to a smoke-filled apartment and a panicking Marik.

The other man had explained after a while that it was simply because he had never done things on his own. His servants had done most everything for him, including cooking his meals, washing his clothes, and other domestic stuff he had been too preoccupied to bother with. Ryou simply shook his head. He was amused, but there was no way he would do everything for Marik. He was busy enough with school and college and getting his body possessed.

You know.

Fun stuff.

Marik still had difficultly with a few things, and Ryou was growing a bit sick of it. He was tired of doing extra loads of laundry and busting his ass to clean the apartment after two people. Marik seemed to be glued to the couch most days, and when he _did_ clean, it was usually such a god-awful job that Ryou just redid it, much to the Egyptian's disdain.

It wasn't that Marik wasn't trying, he was just _really _bad at cleaning. Having the exotic Egyptian as a roommate certainly wasn't something he had foreseen...

_The two men sat across from one another. Ryou took a sip of tea and considered Marik's offer._

_ "Well...?" The Egyptian pressed, his voice tight. _

_ "Gi-give me a minute. I wasn't expecting you to ask to move in with me, of all things," Ryou replied, taking another drink of jasmine._

_ "It would only be temporary," Marik pressed. "I cannot stay in Cairo with my siblings any longer. I know people here, though. I can make something of myself. Just give me a week or two, and I'll be out of your hair."_

_ Ryou looked at him quizzically. "I mean, I... why don't you stay with Yugi-kun?"_

_ Marik's face fell, "Mutou's grandfather has fallen ill. I didn't want to burden him, especially after all he's done for me."_

_ "And the others...?"_

_ "You know how they feel about me," He pressed. "Mazaki moved to the states. Katsuya barely trusts me, same with Hiroto." He shifted, "I just hoped you'd say yes, because..."_

_ (Because you had sex with **him** on every bloody surface?) Ryou had thought bitterly. He shook his head though, ridding it of uncharacteristic resentment._

_ "I... I guess you can." He finally sighed, knowing there was little possibility he could refuse. "I only have a single bedroom, so you'll have to sleep on the couch –"_

_ "Thank you, Ryou!" Marik jumped up, throwing his hands on the table in excitement. "I'm very sorry to inconvenience you, but I'm also glad you agreed. I'll make it up to you once I get a job here."_

Three months later, and the Egyptian was jobless and still living on his couch. He didn't resent Marik for this, it was just tiresome to support a second body. He knew that Marik had come to him because he was attached to the Spirit of the Ring, which Marik had previously spent a lot of time with. It felt Ryou feeling... well, he couldn't quite make out the feeling. He wouldn't say sad, nor resentful. Just...

He rolled onto his back, grunting at the soreness his body held. He stared at the shadowed ceiling with a curious look across his face. He didn't know anything about Marik for the longest time... the only thing he did know about the other man was that he wake up with him in his bed a few times. He knew what it meant, and it made him feel sick, but he couldn't bring himself to hate Marik. If anything, it made him resent to Spirit of the Ring even more.

In fact, within these few months, he came to kind of like the other man. It was nice to have such a pleasant person around. If only he pulled his weight a bit more...

He heard a _crash_ come from somewhere within the apartment, and with a sigh, he pushed himself off the floor. He followed the noise and found Marik laying on the front room floor.

He raised a brow, "Good morning?"

Marik raised his head, looking startled to see Ryou, "It's almost noon." He pushed himself up, "Sorry if I woke you." He looked guilty as he continued, "I just... fell."

Ryou didn't even want to know. "It's fine – I was awake anyway." He shrugged, then winced. His shoulders were about as sore as his aching head.

"Hangover?" Marik asked. Ryou nodded.

"_He_ decided to play with my body," He sighed. "Then when he was done with it he threw it on the floor."

"Is that why you're still in full clothing...? From yesterday...?"

He looked down, seeing that he still had shoes and his coat on. He groaned, but remained unsurprised as he began emptying his pockets.

Two wallets and a diamond band. _A busy night for the Thief King_. He placed the objects on the table near the front door before stripping the coat off, followed by his shoes, which were coated in mud. Only then did he notice the mess they had left on the carpet the night before.

Another mess to clean up before he went to work.

_Thanks, _Ryou thought bitterly. There was no taunting reply, which he was thankful for.

He ran his fingers through his hair and let out an exhale, "There are I.D.s and credit cards in those wallets. I hope he covered up his tracks." Wallets were an easy target for the Spirit of the Ring, though, Ryou was careful to get rid of them as soon as possible so _he_ didn't use any money that would potentially land him in prison.

Groaning at the mess and his bodily pain, he decided a shower would be the best way to go. He left Marik to his "tripping-and-falling" devices and headed to the bathroom.

The heat from the shower soaked his aching muscles, and some of the pain receded. The steam helped his headache, and as he massaged his scalp with lavender shampoo, he already had begun to feel better. As the suds gathered around his bare feet, he stared downwards and sighed. He wasn't looking forward to today.

He had chores, then an afternoon shift, then he had to catch up on homework from last night _and_ tonight, because _somebody_ decided to go on nocturnal misadventure. Of course, he also had to prepare dinner.

...Probably an instant ramen night, if he was being completely honest with himself.

The shower squeaked when Ryou turned the water off. He toweled down and went into his room for fresh clothes. Only... there _were_ no fresh clothes because they were all dirty. With a huff, he pulled some dirty clothes that didn't smell awful. He returned to the living room with a fluffy towel in his damp hair.

"Feel any better?" Marik inquired as Ryou entered.

He shrugged, "The headache is still there." He leaned against the couch, not quite ready to relax. "I have a lot to do today, and homework to catch up on. Did you do the laundry?"

Marik, who had been eating a celery stick, almost chocked. "Uh... no," he replied meekly, setting the vegetable down on his plate.

That was it. His nails dug into the couch for a split second before he pulled away.

He was sic and tired of constantly dealing with this. He wasn't an impatient person, but even he had his limits. He was sick of doing everything around the apartment, sick of waking up feeling like he had been run over, and he was sick of the feeling that he was being taken advantage of.

But most of all, he was sick of not even having full control of his own damn body.

_Somewhere there was laughter._

It was unfair to Marik in retrospect. The man was very nice, and did his best, but his best wasn't very impressive.

Brown eyes smoldered, "I asked you to do one thing, Marik. One! I just asked you to do the laundry! "

"I–"

"– I have to do everything else around here! I buy the food. I make dinner. I clean the floors and the counters, I do the laundry and I make sure that you don't light anything on fire. And then, of course, I have a part time job at the book store, and I have classes in the morning and homework in the evening. And, wow, if I'm lucky, I get to actually go to sleep in my own body without interruptions!"

"I –"

"I'm tired, okay Marik? I'm tired of doing everything!" He was shaking. This was just pent-up frustration that had been building for months now. "I'm tired of cleaning up after two people, and I'm petrified because I know _he's_ going to use any opportunity to take over." At the mention of the Spirit of the Ring he lost it.

Shaking his head furiously, he didn't wait for a response. His body screamed for him to stay and apologize, but he overcame his desire to be polite, and he stormed from the room. He ignored how dumbfounded Marik looked.

When he swarmed into the kitchen, set on making some tea in the hopes to calm him down, his eyes went to a small baggy on the counter. Silently, he padded over to it and looked inside. There were three cream puffs sitting at the bottom of the bag, and immediately he melted.

Ryou devoured one, then saved the others for later. He knew he'd need the extra sugar for an energy boost. It was common knowledge (or so he thought) that Ryou's favorite treat was cream puffs, and Marik took advantage of that.

He knew that if he took over, Marik would leave the apartment and steer clear of him. It became a habit of the Egyptian's to occasionally leave him a bag of cream puffs if this happened. He didn't know why Marik did it, but he never questioned it. In fact, he deeply appreciated the other for it.

He was always deeply moved by the simple gesture.

With a sigh, he felt the wave of guilt hit him, and he trailed back into the living room, only to find it empty.

He found Marik in the tiny laundry room at the end of the hall, standing in front of the washing machine, looking puzzled. When Ryou entered, Marik looked at him. "I'm sorry. I'm not used to using these. We – we never had them underground, obviously, and I always had other people wash my clothes." He scratched the side of his face.

Ryou shook his head, "I shouldn't have snapped at you. I've just been under a great deal of stress." He offered a strained smile.

"You had every right to be angry. I haven't been pulling my weight. I thought I had – but I guess I haven't."

The smile was a bit more genuine. "Here, I'll show you how to use it, and this time _remember._"


	3. Chapter 3

After the lesson, which Marik was sure he would forget, _again_, the two sat together and watched television until Ryou had to leave for work. He decided to tidy up the apartment, as an apology. He had felt guilty for making Ryou angry, because he knew it took an awful lot to bring rage to the paler man.

In fact, now that he thought about, he had never seen Ryou truly angry. There were moments of frustration, but he could always compose himself. He was just that soft-spoken and polite, if not a bit awkward.

Marik shook his head, feeling the guilt weigh on him as he danced around the kitchen floor, attempting to mop it (actually he was just pushing the dirt around)

The man had little desire to upset Ryou in any fashion. He hadn't realized how much pent-up frustration he had caused the other man with his stay here. Ryou never had displayed a dislike of him or the things he did... except when he accidentally messed something up and made a mess of things, but even then, his roommate normally just sighed and corrected him.

Like when he tried to make cookies once. It was something he had never done, so he made a complete mess of Ryou's kitchen preparing the damn things, then he couldn't even bake them because the oven, in his eyes, was an enigma.

Ryou came home to a devastated kitchen and a huge bowl of raw cookie dough. He had looked like he had a long, tiring day. However, instead of scolding Marik, he had just sighed and gave him a weak smile and said, "Well, let's clean this up and I'll show you how to use the oven."

Marik smiled fondly at the memory. Ryou was always so gentle, and his temper was a rare occurrence. It was so different from _him. _From the one that dwelled within his mind and soul. Marik frowned once more at the thought, feeling sympathy for Ryou. He was a strong boy, and didn't deserve the crap he had to put up with. He leaned against the counter, letting out a deep sigh.

_Poor Ryou, having to deal with that borderline demon,_ he thought, feeling old resentment rising forth. A growl bubbled in his in his throat as he bitterly recalled the cruel man. Normally gentle chocolate eyes glistened crimson, and thin lips were drawn up in a confident sneer.

Marik shuddered at the image. The reaction was both positive and negative, much to his disdain. The lingering feelings he had for _him _was inconvenient enough without his mind conjuring up attractive images of sweaty bodies and lustful eyes.

Snorting, he continued mopping and forced his thoughts elsewhere, like back to Ryou.

Marik had been rather shocked when the smaller man rose his voice to him. An angry Ryou was a scary Ryou, he had to admit. He recalled the tinge of red on his cheeks, and he had been breathless by the end of the rant. It wasn't a look Ryou bore often.

He also had brought up some good points. Marik hadn't been doing enough around the apartment – in general, actually. It was a painful reminder that he still had no direction in life. He didn't have a job, and didn't have the slightest inkling of how he wanted his life to progress.

No profession sounded appealing to him. Nothing tickled his fancy at all.

He didn't have money for school, nor did he have much interest in it, especially with the way it stressed Ryou out. Plus, he knew absolutely nothing about the mass educational system. His eyes widened when he heard stories of Elementary School, Junior High and High School. As somebody who was taught from books by a single instructor – his father – he had no idea that large classrooms full of multiple students and teachers existed.

In the technical world, he didn't have any proper schooling either, which made his nonexistent hopes of college invalid.

Another sigh pushed through his lips and his eyes became shadowed. Even if he wanted to pursue a higher education and get a degree like Ryou, it would be impossible. He had no record. He was taught few subjects underground by his own father. Mostly the pharaoh's scriptures, along with basic reading and writing. How was he supposed to get into any college without any kind of digital – or paper – record?

Not to mention, the more research he did on jobs and professions, the more he wanted to just wanted to get on his motorcycle and ride away.

Only he couldn't. Because he didn't have gas. Because he didn't have money. _Because he didn't have a job. _

He groaned, rubbing his face in frustration. Sometimes he pondered what it would have been like if he had stayed in the Tombkeeper clan. The thought of knowing exactly who you were going to be was comforting, but it was _who _you were going to become that made it unsettling: just another featureless face lost in the generations.

He'd rather be lost in the real world than be trapped underground with a sealed future. Anything is better than those airless tunnels. The endless darkness, the lack of sunlight, it was maddening. He was sure if he ever ended back underground, his life would come to an end.

Memories surfaced of him as a child.

He spent hours studying by dying candlelight until his fingers shook with effort. His eyes would grow blurry from straining to read page after page of scriptures. Games were rare. He had an old, leather ball that he, Ishizu and Rishid would play with in the moonlight that pooled through the cracks in the ceiling. Those had been the highlights of his childhood. His siblings had been his best friends, and their company was the only positive thing he could remember.

After a full day of studying and working, he would crawl into a cold bed. Ishizu would kiss him on the forehead, and Rishid would whisper goodnight. The light would be blown out, and darkness took over.

His room had always been so, so dark. Especially when it was time for him to sleep. His eyes would strain to see the wall inches in front of his face, but it never came to. Fear would well through him as the walls creaked, and he promptly had thrown the blanket over his head, his small body shaking with fright.

Marik felt anxiety grip him as he remembered. Even now, those cold, relentless nights still made him scared of the dark.

Not to mention he could still feel the familiar fear in his heart. His palms had grown sweaty since the memory replayed in his head. His heart rate increased, and a small wave of vertigo passed through him, causing his body feel limp. Dropping the mop, he stumbled over to the couch, flopping onto it, praying for the dizziness to pass.

Dwelling on his past always did this to him. It always made him very pensive and uncomfortable at the least, and gave him anxiety attacks at the worst, leaving him a paranoid, shaking mess.

His breathing refused to calm down as images flashed repeatedly through his head, pressing against his skull. Crawling darkness, curling around him in sickly tentacles. Up his legs, sliding across his back, causing old scars to hurt as if they were fresh, festering wounds.

Marik hissed, feeling his back burn. He pressed his face into the couch cushions, grinding his teeth.

_ Stop, stop, stop._

_ It hurts._

He internally pleaded. Begging did nothing, though. His body was quivering with panic, and some sweat drops tickled his face.

"Please..." he croaked, his voice low, eyes sealed shut.

His breathing was uneven as he laid there for what seemed like hours. He hated when he got like this, and he willed his body to calm itself down. His body ached from the constantly trembling, and his limbs were sore as he curled them tightly against himself.

He never got panic attacks like this when he was under his yami's dark influence. It was only when he was liberated from his dark side that his past began taking a different effect on him. He couldn't think about the tunnels or his underground life at all without it having some ill effect on him.

And it was getting worse.

He tried not to whimper as he curled tighter into himself. He quelled his mind as he continued to shake. After what seemed like hours, a light sleep blanketed over him.

…

A few days had passed since Ryou had come home to find Marik in a tight ball and the mop strewn across the kitchen floor. When he had roused the man up from a very uncomfortable looking nap, he had appeared very aloof. Ryou had smiled at him reassuringly before going to his room to work on two nights worth of homework.

It was the weekend now. He finished his homework the previous night, and he had Saturday off. As far as he could tell, it would be an eagerly awaited, hard-earned day off.

Only the kitchen was a mess.

Ryou stood at the entrance of the room draped in blue pajamas, messy hair spilling over his shoulders. He blinked his tired eyes very slowly at the scene before him.

White powder (he presumed was powered sugar or flour) coated the counters and floor. Pots and pans were strewn all over the place, all filthy. Marik stood in front of the messy stove, making something that smelled like a burnt pancakes.

Ryou took all this in and just sighed. He wasn't even surprised anymore as he strolled to the fridge, grabbing some juice.

Marik whirled around, "Morning! Sorry for the mess," he added a bit guiltily.

He rose a hand to silence Marik from apologizing any further, "It's fine. Just... just make sure you clean up..." he got out a couple of glasses, "What are you making?"

"Pan-cakes," the word sounded weird on his tongue,"I've never tried them, but they're a popular breakfast food in Europe and America and they looked good."

He poured the juice, "They are good. They're really sweet, too."

"And you like sweet stuff." He turned back to the pan. "I don't think they're turning out right..." He scowled down at what looked like a flattened hockey puck.

Ryou smiled half-heartedly, "Just don't light anything on fire, okay?"

Just then a plume of smoke bellowed from the pan, and Marik yelped, ripping it off the stove. Another sigh passed Ryou's lips, and he stepped in to help.

A tiring two hours later, they had eaten and cleaned up the huge mess that Marik left behind. They were resting on the couch, both in lounging clothes. Marik was watching him play Dragon Age. Ryou didn't have spare time very often, but when he did, it was usually spent reading or playing games. It had been awhile since he had visited his Elf character. Sadly, he had saved right before a battle and he wandered right into it.

Marik laughed when he died several times in a row. He threw the man an amused look and handed the controller over to him.

"You try, then." Ryou leaned back against the couch cushions, enjoying the startled expression on Marik's face.

"I don't know how to play! I don't even understand the language; it's all in English!"

"Just press buttons."

And so Marik gave it a shot, and of course, he died faster than Ryou did. They both had a hardy laugh about it, though.

"Why am I fighting this hoard of werewolves anyway?" Marik asked, eyes trained on the screen as he re-spawned and went through the cutscene.

"Because they're angry at the Dalish Elves...? I think?" Ryou replied, scratching at his head. "It's kind of complicated and I didn't really pay attention to the plot."

Marik grinned in response. It took nearly two hours for Marik to beat the boss fight, and the whole time, Ryou found himself laughing each time the other did badly in the game. He couldn't help it; Marik's ignorance to this game was hilarious. Luckily, the other man found it just as amusing as well as frustrating.

Ryou found himself sinking into the couch cushions, allowing his mind to go mellow for once. He kicked up his feet and let a wave of relaxation to come over him.

They stayed like that for hours before deciding on take-out for dinner. They threw on coats and meandered down the road to a small shop that had good, cheap take-out.

When they got home, they watched some aimless television and ate their food before Ryou retired to decided to go to bed early.

It was a good day for Ryou Bakura.

Or so he thought.

As he stepped out of his clothes and gathered up his pajamas from his dresser, he felt the sickening feeling of being sucked into his own body. Panic barely had time to flit its way across his mind before blackness over took him.

…

Marik was leaning back on the sofa when he heard footsteps. He cast a casual glance in the direction of the hallway, expecting to see his roommate. However, who he saw sickened him. The bronze man was off the couch in a split second, standing in a defensive position, glaring irritably at the the naked newcomer.

"What do you want?" he growled, his tone anything but friendly.

The other one grinned, his eyes glistening with a meanness that Ryou could never pull off. "You wound me, Marik." His voice was as thick as syrup as his eyes glistened dangerously. "Where's the friendliness?"

Marik snorted, crossing his arms. "Friendliness? With _you_?"

"Of course, considering our history." He sneered. The tanner man flinched and the newcomer grinned wider, seeing he struck a nerve. "You should show me more kindness."

He hissed in response, "Yeah right. What the hell are you doing here? If you're looking for a fuck buddy, don't bother."

"You know me so well, _my_ _dear_." He said the last word in a mocking tone as he stepped around the couch. Marik edged away, keeping the piece of furniture as a barrier. "All I want is to kiss you. Bite you. _Feel you_."

"The feeling isn't mutual. I don't want anything to do with you. I've told you that." Marik growled, lilac eyes narrowing.

"And I don't accept rejection." The laugh that escaped his pink lips was cruel and deranged, "You know this! Especially since you're _mine. _You belong to _Ore-sama_."

There was a scoff.

"I don't belong to you. I never have, and I never will."

He gave him a crass look, "You have always been mine. You're my possession, just like _yadonushi._" A snide grin came across his face. "And I don't like the way you've been avoiding me."

"I don't care." Marik spat, stepping further and further away, disliking the way the other was moving towards him like a stalking predator. It was unnerving.

"Well I do. Stop it. A pet that runs from its master will get into trouble."

"I'm not your pet, you're not my master." Marik said heavily. "Get away from me."

The other's eyes widening, almost wildly, as he gave Marik a toothy, callous grin. "I'm afraid I cannot do that, Marik."

The bronze man suddenly found himself against a wall with the other directly in front of him. "I want you. I want you _now_." He was so close that Marik could feel his heat. But it wasn't _his_ heat, it was Ryou's heat. It was Ryou's body that was pressing into him. It was Ryou's hand that had grabbed his chin. It was Ryou's knee that was lodged against his crotch.

Moreover, it was _Ryou's _lips against his own. He shuddered involuntarily, finding himself returning the gesture with bravado. It was rough, and he felt sharp teeth tease his lips, causing a light moan to escape him. A tongue fought with his own, hot and wet. The two mouths melted into one as they exchanged the heated kiss.

Suddenly, something in Marik's mind snapped.

_NO!_

Marik pushed off the wall and slammed his knee upwards, straight into the other's groin. He grunted in pain, doubling over and clenching his crotch.

"Fuck...!" He snarled.

By the time he took a few moments to stop seeing pained stars, Marik had already ran out the front door and swept into the cool night.


	4. Chapter 4

Ryou was sitting at his desk with extra credit homework in front of him and a bag of ice between his legs.

Ryou had woken up that morning slumped over his bed with the duvet clumsily thrown halfway over his body. He felt surprisingly okay, except his groin was in so much agony he had almost thrown up when he attempted to stand.

When he finally managed to limp out into the front room, Marik had been just waking up. Upon seeing the newcomer he had apologized profusely for kicking Ryou the previous night and explained what happened, causing the paler man to become insanely embarrassed and rush (or rush as fast as he could) back to his room.

He had just called in to work to take a sick day. There was no way he was going to be efficient in the workplace like this.

_I can't believe he came onto Marik. Again. _Ryou thought sourly to himself as he roughly scribbled against his paper.

The Spirit of the Ring had a habit of taking over Ryou simply to confront Marik. He would assault him in the most... sensual and violent of ways. It was not only mortifying, but it filled the host with uncomfortable and uncharacteristic resentment. He _knew_ Marik wasn't going to screw around with _him_ anymore, which made it all the more unpleasant to hear that Marik was essentially sexually assaulted by him_._

Marik had been very adamant in telling Ryou he was done screwing around with the Spirit of the Ring. At first, the whitette wasn't so convinced that Marik could follow those words. He knew habits like that were hard to break, especially since they had been screwing around for months. But after Marik lived with him for awhile... Ryou came to trust the other man. He was sure by now that Marik had little interest in the Spirit... or maybe that was just his optimism speaking.

He dropped his pencil and put his face into his hands.

_You're disrupting my life, _he growled internally, knowing that the Spirit would hear him. However, getting a response was unlikely.

Ryou sometimes feared that Marik would leave because of the Spirit's attacks, but he knew that the other had no place to go.

Still, he had grown so used to having a roommate that the thought of living in solitude again was unbearable. Even if they had separate lives, being able to just sit next to someone and make carefree small talk was something he had definitely grown used to. He was still a little awkward about it, and sometimes he felt he needed alone time in his room but... the sound of somebody else puttering about the small apartment was very comforting, and he wasn't sure he could go back to living alone.

He had spent so long in the quiet.

He never realized just how much he _hated_ it.

The pencil broke in his hand suddenly. Ryou allowed a sigh through his lips before he pushed himself out of the chair and sluggishly leaving the room.

Marik was at the small kitchen table, doodling on some papers. When he noticed Ryou limp in, a look of guilt washed over his face. As Ryou started taking stuff out for tea, Marik jumped up, "That's fine, I'll make it for you."

Ryou quirked a brow curiously, but let the Egyptian take over as he took a thankful seat at the table, breathing out sweet relief.

"I'm sorry," he said as he watched Marik start the kettle. The bronze man turned around, raising his eyebrows quizzically.

"For _him_ I mean." Ryou sighed, "I'm sorry he did that. Again... I can't control when he comes out. Sometimes I can try and repel him, but... I mean, had I known... I would have warned you."

Marik shook his head, "You shouldn't be apologizing, Ryou. That damned spirit should be. After all, he's the one that shoved his tongue in my mouth." He took out a couple of mugs, deciding on having some too. He wasn't big on tea, but it was a chilly morning, so some warmth in his belly couldn't hurt.

"How far did he try and go...?"

"That's about as far as he got before I kneed him." Marik stared at Ryou, a deep frown on his face. "Again, sorry about that. I wasn't thinking about your body when I hit him."

"I'm sure if your dark personality tried to come onto me, I would have done the same." Ryou offered with a small smile.

Marik chuckled a bit, though there was a shadow in his gaze. "I'm not sure if my dark personality would have done something like that. He didn't seem like he was interested in anything other than violence." He leaned against the counter thoughtfully.

"I almost wish I could say the same for _him_, but sadly he cares about more than violence. Instant gratification."

Marik let out a huff, "Yeah..." he was quiet, his gaze troubled.

Ryou knew why. "I know what you're thinking. I already told you that I forgive you..."

The other man shook his head and turned away. The conversation fizzled out and was replaced with a tense silence. Marik was surely dwelling over the past relationship he had with the Spirit of the Ring. As Marik made the tea, Ryou allowed his gaze to trail over what he had been doing before he came into the room. The bronze man had been doodling aimlessly on some papers. He reached forward, taking a few in his hands and flipping through them.

Marik sat down at the table, pushing Ryou's tea over to him.

"These are very pretty, Marik." He praised as he set the papers down.

His favorite wasn't an intricate tribal pattern like the others. It was a sketch of a Pharaoh's tomb. It was surprising that Marik had drawn such a thing, because as far as Ryou knew, he hated anything regarding tombs, or anything regarding his past for that matter. Still, it was incredible, drenched in deep shadows. The gold accessories that adorned the sarcophagus shined beautifully. Little details made the piece all the more mesmerizing.

Marik took the drawing and scowled at it, "I don't like this one." He discarded the piece of art.

Ryou knew that drawing had been a hobby that Marik had developed over the last few months. He had natural talent. It's not like Ryou had an artist's eye, but Marik's work was definitely good.

Ryou asked him about it once, and Marik had told him he wasn't sure where his skill came from. He said he almost never drew as a child, and of course there was no time for such trivial things when he was under the influence of his other half during his teen years.

He had a natural artist's hand, it seemed.

Ryou stirred some sugar into his hot beverage and watched aimlessly as Marik began sketching the mug in front of him. His hand moved quickly as the cup came to life on paper. The paler man leaned forward, his eyes widening in fascination.

By the end, Marik looked frustrated, but he put the drawing with the others.

"You're really good." Ryou said with an honest smile.

Marik scratched his head, sighing. "Thanks.

They were quiet for a moment before Marik leaned back in his chair, looking bored. "Are you not going to work today?"

Ryou shifted uncomfortably, wincing at the soreness. "I called in sick... I dunno if I can handle standing for hours and hours."

Another look of guilt came over Marik's face. He stood up from his seat and moved into the front room, leaving Ryou alone at the table.

…

Marik was laying back against the couch cushions, staring anywhere but the television that was playing some American cartoon. Ryou seemed interested in the show, but he could actually _understand _it. Marik had no knowledge of the English language – he only knew the language of Ancient Egypt, Arabic and Japanese (though that was limited).

"Are you sure you don't want me to change it?" Ryou offered for the fifth or so time.

Marik shook his head. He wasn't really paying attention anyways.

He was in deep thought; he was mulling over the Spirit of the Ring and how he had attacked him the other night. It was no surprise to be completely honest. _He_ had attacked Marik in such a manner before. It was actually quite common – a couple times a week at least, and the attacks were steadily rising.

Marik was always careful around Ryou. Even now, he had one eye on the man. He knew the Spirit of the Ring rarely came out during the day, for whatever reason, but Marik was still weary. He took to leaving whenever he felt like_ he_ was going to take over. If Ryou was late home, Marik left before_ he _could come back. He practically slept with one eye open.

It wasn't fear for his well-being that drove him to such extremes. It was the guilt he felt for defiling Ryou's body for so long, and it was resentment that _he _couldn't accept Marik's rejection. Marik didn't want to continue the fucked up relationship the two had prior, but the Spirit of the Ring had different plans. He wouldn't take no for an answer. He was as stubborn as ever when it came to Marik.

It happened during the Battle City tournaments. The two had begun a rocky relationship that was entirely physical, brindled with constant arguing and fighting. To be completely honest, it was a turn-on for both of them. The insults; the punches; it would all eventually lead to rough intercourse. The two would end up fucking wherever they were fighting, and they both_ loved_ it.

The desperate, feral mewls of pleasure that escaped the Spirit's mouth would push Marik onward, driven by his need to dominate his "equal".

After Battle City and after the final duels, however, Marik found himself thinking very differently.

No longer did he feel the murderous violence towards other people. All his hostility and maliciousness vanished with his yami, replaced with a sense of humanity that he hadn't felt since prior to his father's bloody death. It was almost relieving when he found the hatred slip from his body, replaced with energy and curiousness.

Moreover, his sense of goodness made him regret the things he had been doing to Ryou's body. He had never thought about it until...

_The two reached orgasm within seconds of each other. The sticky liquid covered their bodies as Marik pulled out, sweat drenching his body. He was absolutely exhausted after having sex twice in a row. He threw himself onto the bed alongside the Spirit, his chest rising and falling dramatically._

_ The other threw him a smirk, but Marik had not seen it. He was already starting to fall asleep, something he never allowed himself to do in the Spirit's presence. It was too risky, too dangerous; the other could easily kill him in such a vulnerable state. _

_ But he was tired from sex. The Spirit had him going for hours, and his body was drained._

_ …_

_ He awoke to, not the Spirit next to him, but the host, Ryou. This was a surprise. The boy was staring down at the Egyptian, looking frightened and revolted. _

_ "Why are you here?"_

_ That's when it hit Marik. The strain in the other's voice made him feel... guilt._

_ He had sex with the Spirit to forget his troubles, but the new-found innocence in the host made Marik question what he had been doing this whole time. _

_ Especially when Ryou struggled out of the bed, staring down at his messy body in undisguised disgust. He was covered in cum, bites, scratches and hickeys. Ones that he didn't consent to._

_ Marik had been especially raping the poor boy's body. _

_ He had felt sickened with himself. _

...And he still did. He had learned what a nice man Ryou truly was. He was polite and reserved, but his opinions were very valid and strong.

Soon after that Marik stopped seeing the Spirit. He stopped fucking with him and begun a friendly relationship with the host instead.

Ryou was far more likable anyways. Marik found himself drawn to Ryou's many opinions, and his interests were unique yet fascinating. However, because of the rocky relationship Marik had held with the Spirit of the Ring and Ryou's non-consenting body, there had always been an awkward rift between them. Marik was uncomfortable with it, but he had no right to feel the way he did. He appreciated the little relationship they did have, all things considered. Not to mention the fact Ryou allowed Marik to live with him after everything that happened.

After, not only what he did with his body, but after he nearly killed his friends. Sure, he became good and helped them out afterwards, but that didn't change the fact that he had, in fact, attempted to murder his friends to get what he wanted. The fact Ryou even let Marik into his life was a welcomed miracle.

Because in all honesty, the white-haired man was Marik's only friend.

And said white-haired man was staring at him expectantly.

"Huh?" Was all that escaped Marik's mouth as he stared, confused.

He let out a chuckle at Marik's obliviousness. "I asked if you wanted to watch anything because the show ended," he tipped his head to the ending credits.

"Oh." He said stupidly. "No, I don't really want to watch anything." There was a pause. "But I am pretty bored. Do you want to do something? – something that doesn't require too much walking." He added the last part with a sympathetic tone.

Marik knew he had no right to expect Ryou to say yes.

"Well... sure, I suppose so."

"Great!" Marik practically sprung off the couch, startling the other.

The two got ready (they had been lounging around in pajamas most of the day). Marik ended up borrowing one of Ryou's hoodies, which was a pastel blue. It looked odd on him – such a pale blue really wasn't suited for him – but it was warm and had a comforting scent. He also secured himself in a thick dark blue scarf that he found in Ryou's wardrobe.

Ryou had more tolerance of cold weather, but any extreme did a number on his weak body. He tucked himself in a white and grey knitted sweater that was slightly too big and a pair of gray jeans that hugged his legs.

Once the two were ready they left. Ryou moved slowly. Luckily, the sharp pain dissipated to a dull throbbing, so it was almost bearable.

Almost.

To be honest, Marik had no idea where he wanted to go, he had just been discomforted by the thoughts that had been plaguing him, so he wanted out.

What was a cheap activity that was close and didn't involve a lot of moving? He scowled inwardly. He was so socially inept it was ridiculous, and his knowledge of normal every day life was very limited, for obvious reasons.

Ryou didn't seem very bothered as they walked away from the apartment complex. The air was crisp and dirty snow littered the ground. Marik tucked himself deeper in the scarf he was wearing, huffing a bit.

"I cannot handle the cold." He grumbled.

Ryou gave him a sympathetic glance, "I know. I don't do well in it either, but it's better than the heat."

"I would prefer the heat," Marik grinned.

"Of course, because you're from Egypt. It's sweltering there all the time."

Marik had bad associations with his old home, but if there was one thing he missed, it was the warmth. His favorite time was dusk – the heat of the day still lingered, but the coolness of night had begun to set in. It was actually quite beautiful.

"I've been to Egypt before and I avoided the sun at all costs." Ryou continued, "I probably would have burned within minutes."

"You would have needed SPF one thousand." The Egyptian snickered.

"I'm about as pale as paper," he shrugged, offering Marik a playful smile. "So... uh, do you know where we're going?"

_I was hoping he wouldn't ask, _Marik thought with a mental sigh.

"To be honest, I have no idea, I just wanted to get out." He replied guiltily, scratching the back of his head. "Probably should think of something though. I don't think you want to work more than you have to."

"It's no problem." Ryou replied politely, but Marik was concerned he was lying.

Then he thought of something. It was a ridiculous idea, though. "What about the three dollar cinema? Isn't that nearby?"

Marik had been watching a lot of pop culture shows to know now that going to the movies usually meant a date, but he wasn't trying to make a romantic gesture. He just wanted to do something that he could actually afford. He hoped Ryou didn't take it the wrong way as he watched the other nervously out of the corner of his eye.

"Sure!" The smile he received was genuine. "Sounds fun. Let's go."

And so the two of them headed to the cinema and ended up watching a movie that came out a few years ago. Marik hadn't seen it though, since he was too busy with murderous revenge to watch movies at the time it came out, so it was a new experience for him.

He found the whole experience of going to the movies fascinating. He had yet to go to a cinema period, though he tried not to show it. He didn't want Ryou to know just how limited his knowledge on modern society was. It was embarrassing in all honesty. He was learning more though; television soap oprahs and sitcoms helped a lot.

After spending years underground, then years as the leader of a cult, there was never any time to enjoy modern culture. He had been consumed by darkness and revenge so long that he was blind to the world.

He had nearly gasped when he saw the actual theatre itself. So many seats – and such a huge screen! It took up a whole wall! Suddenly, he found himself acting like a child as he raced to the best viewing area, throwing himself down into the cushioned seats and resting his feet on the seat in front of him.

Ryou followed him more slowly, a fond smile on his face as he took a seat next to the happy Marik. He got comfortable as he sat back in the cushions and waited for the movie to begin.

...

Ryou looked on in amusement as Marik hopped out of the theatre. He was bubbling with excitement as he talked about the movie. He wondered if Marik knew just how energetic he was. He waved his arms around dramatically as he imitated the movie's characters. It was sort of endearing watching this 18 year old ex-gang leader become so hyperactive over such a simple thing.

Then something occurred to him. "Marik..?"

"... – it was so cool when he – oh, yeah?" He cut himself off, looking over to the paler man.

"Was that your first time going to the movies?" He quirked a brow curiously.

Marik suddenly pursed his lips, looking a little ashamed. "Hah... yeah. I never really got a chance to go a theatre as a kid, obviously."

Ryou nodded in understanding. "I used to go with Yuugi, Jounouchi, Anzu and Honda sometimes...but" His memory flashed to the awkward times he hung out with his friends.

He didn't like thinking about it. He always got the feeling that he was unwelcomed among them. He didn't blame them though; the Spirit of the Ring had messed with them on many occasions and had tried to kill them several times.

Locking their souls in RPG game pieces... in cards... trying to take over Honda's body... attempting to kill them during dangerous games... the list was endless.

Why they even tolerated his presence was surprising to say the least.

Or maybe he was just being too self-pitying.

Marik gave him a sad smile. "I know what you mean. They try and act friendly to me, but I know they just see my face and remember what my other personality did." The smile was replaced with a distant look.

He sighed.

Ryou stopped walking.

He gave Marik a very sincere look as he spoke. "When I see you, I don't see him. I don't see the violent man who was bent on violence and revenge." His lips went upwards in a soft smile. "I see you for you."

He scratched the side of his face, realizing how deep and possibly creepy that sounded. He averted his gaze and rushed forward, leaving Marik quickly follow him.

"Wait –!" He threw his hand forward, catching Ryou by the shoulder, pulling him back.

Marik winced when he made physical contact with the other man and pulled his hand away quickly as if stung, "I just – I appreciate that..." he paused, biting the inside of his lip. "And, you know, I don't hold a grudge or anything against you for what he did." He shuffled his feet before continuing. "I don't see the man who calls himself Bakura. I see a much kinder, sweeter, gentler person that could _never_ be that malevolent and evil."

The compliment took him by surprise. His cheeks felt felt hot as he attempted to stumble out a thanks. Being praised or recognized in such a positive light was rare, and he suddenly found himself without words.

Marik smiled at him before continuing on his way, leaving a flabbergasted Ryou standing in the snow.

* * *

does japan have 3 dollar cinemas? hmmm

anyways, thanks for the follows/reviews! :3


	5. Chapter 5

**warnings:** light body horror/gore

* * *

It was a quiet Thursday late afternoon when Marik received a call from his sister, Ishizu. He bubbled with excitement when he picked up the phone.

"Sister!" He greeted with much vigor. "Hello!"

Ishizu was very dear to Marik. After many years off threatening her life if she got in his way, they slowly but surely mended the relationship they had as children. At first, Marik had been admittedly a little nervous, but his sister welcomed him back in her life with open arms. Marik was eternally thankful for this; the months following the vanquish of his darkness were rough. He had appreciated the support he had from his sister. However... he couldn't help the constant guilt on his conscious.

He had threatened to _kill _her. Brushed her aside like she was _nothing_. Granted, he was under a dark influence, but _still. _Excuses could not erase the betrayal he displayed towards his own flesh and blood.

Ishizu had always meant a lot to him. When they were kids, they would sit in the candlelight while she would tell him stories about the outside world, his dazzled face flickering in the weak light, his eyes shining excitedly. She would tell him about buildings, birds and the sky. She would tell him about the people who lived above ground, constantly under the sun's rays. He couldn't even fathom such a life back then... it had seemed daunting, and yet, it also had felt tantalizing. He would have given anything to see the outside world...

It was also his sister that would ward away the monsters and demons that took form in the shadows on the walls. Sometimes he would wake up terribly frightened and his sister would be at his side in a matter of moments. He couldn't quite recall the lullaby she sung to him to help with his nightly anxiety... but she would whisper it lovingly into his ears, keeping her voice low. She said once that their mother sung the lullaby to her, and to Rishid, when they had been very young.

Those nights, when Ishizu held him and sung ever so softly, he knew he didn't need a mother. He had his sister.

"Hello, Marik," came the warm reply. "It's good I caught you."

He smiled softly, leaning back against the couch. "Yes, it is. How have you been?"

Ishizu chuckled, "From the last time we spoke last week? Not very much."

Marik scratched his head, though his sister wouldn't have seen it, "Yeah, I guess. We didn't get to talk much, though. You were busy."

His sister sounded apologetic on the other end. "Yes, it was unfortunate that we couldn't speak longer," there was a pause, "But I have plenty of time now."

"Great. You mentioned a project last time..?"

"Yes. The museum plans on opening a new exhibit, so everybody's really busy at the moment trying to work out the details."

"What is the exhibit going to be on?"

"Just an an exhibit on Ancient Egyptian culture; one we haven't explored. There will be an interactive area for children as well, so we have to make sure the machinery isn't dangerous, but we also have to make sure it's fun and attracts people. We have to get some designers to set it up, and we need to make sure it's accurate of course. It's all in the planning stage for now, and we've begun collecting materials. I imagine we'll all be swamped for a while."

"...That sounds all really complicated," Marik moaned in displeasure, pulling his feet up off the ground and pressing his heels into the cushions of the couch, "Well, I'll have to see it when you put it all together. When will it be done?"

Ishizu chuckled. "Not for a while – perhaps a year, maybe? It's hard to say. Our goal is to get it up by the end of next summer."

"That's plenty of time! After all, it's only November."

"Yes, I suppose."

There was a pause. Marik shifted awkwardly. He felt Ishizu about to ask a question (and he had a good hunch on what the question would have been) so he quickly asked, "How's Rishid? I haven't heard from him in awhile."

"Rishid has been doing fine. He's been doing some help with the project, but mostly he's been doing his own thing. He's... very lost at the moment. And, of course, he doesn't tell me much."

They both sighed in unison. Rishid was quite a secretive person, even among family. Marik couldn't help but be guilty as well.

Rishid spend his whole life – _his whole life_ – at Marik's side. It was his duty from the time he was a young child that he was to take care of his younger brother. They weren't of the same blood, but that hardly mattered. Rishid would jump in front of a bullet to save Marik. His older brother stuck by his side through his childhood, and through his teen years when he was a cruel, manipulative person. Rishid knew his duty and never left Marik, no matter the horrible things he did, no matter that he was nearly _killed _because of Marik's selfish endeavors.

Even after his dark personality was destroyed, Rishid was always near. This made Marik very uncomfortable – the way his older brother still waited on him, still took care of him. It was not only suffocating, but he felt so guilty and he felt as if he were taking advantage of the poor man. He couldn't bear to burden Rishid further. So when he left Egypt for Japan, he told Rishid to stay. Rishid appeared to have understood, but there was a distant... lost gaze.

To hear he was struggling was devastating.

"You should give him a call, Marik."

Marik didn't respond.

Her voice was soft as she continued. "I know how you feel, but... I assure you, it would help him greatly if you called him and spoke to him."

"It's just... every time I even hear his voice I feel so awful..." He mumbled.

"I know, I know, but you know what you have to do."

Marik absentmindedly began playing with his toes, his eyes distant. Rishid wasn't a very talkative person, so their conversations tended to be short and sweet, while Marik and Ishizu could easily talk for hours. Rishid was never a huge conversationalist, but even still, Ishizu was right.

"I'll give him a call over the weekend." Marik decided. "Say hi and maybe convince him to get a wife, or something." He added the last part jokingly.

Ishizu chuckled. "Perhaps. I think if he found a nice woman that it would help greatly... so. Marik, how have you been?"

Marik plucked a piece of sock fuzz from between two toes, "Fine."

"Just 'fine'?" Ishizu asked suspiciously. She must have picked up his distant tone.

He flicked the fuzz to the floor. "Yes. Fine." He huffed, glaring at particularly nothing. "I don't know, nothing interested has happened since last week."

"Really? So, you just sat in a corner and stared at a wall?"

Marik snickered, "No, I also sat on the couch and stared at the ceiling."

She sighed, "Marik..."

The laugh carried on. "Nothing major happened. I didn't fine anything interesting to do. Although, I did find a European sitcom with subtitles. It's actually really amusing –"

"I'm sure it is, Marik, but do you do anything else other than watch television? It seems every time I talk to you, the only interesting thing you have to say is that you found a new show and talk about it for a half an hour."

"Well, like I said, I haven't been up to much."

"Really, Marik? What about the weekend? Did you do anything other than watch T.V?"

"Well, actually, yes." His eyes lit up, "I went to the theatre for the first time!"

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah! Have you been to one, Sister? They're huge rooms with lots and lots of seats, with a huge screen that takes up a whole wall!"

"That's wonderful, Marik." She sounded genuinely pleased. "Did you go with somebody?"

"I went with Ryou."

"Your roommate, right?" She inquired. "Ryou Bakura...?" She paused for a moment, "Wasn't he associated with the Spirit of the Ring?"

"...Yes, why?"

"I just didn't think you'd still be living with him is all. Weren't you only going to stay with him for a week or two?"

Marik shifted, suddenly uncomfortable, "Uh... yeah. I just haven't been able to get out and get a job. It's hard without any kind of record."

"I know, Marik. I'm just nervous about you staying with him. After all, if he was associated with the Millennium Ring, then..." she trailed off for a moment before continuing. "I just don't want him to have any kind of bad effect on you."

Marik's throat felt dry. "What do you mean, Sister? Ryou is very nice."

"The Spirit of the Ring, I mean. I know you communicated with him during Seto Kaiba's Battle City Duel Monster's competition. I don't want anything bad to happen at you, and I don't want him to possibly..."

"...yes...?" He prompted

"...to trigger your darkness." She finished with a sigh.

Marik's whole body tensed up. "How could you assume something like that? My other self was destroyed! There's no way he could come back!"

"I know, I know! I just want you to be safe, Marik, and associating with _him_ could be a bad idea."

He gave an angry exhale. "First of all, Ryou has nothing to do with the Spirit of the Ring! As far as I know, they don't even communicate! Second, if that was the case, do you think I would be living here?!" His voice turned into a growl, "Ryou is innocent. He was just caught in the crossfire."

"I understand Ryou is innocent, but Bakura isn't –"

" – he isn't Bakura. Don't call him Bakura," Marik hissed. "He doesn't deserve a name."

"Okay. _He_ isn't innocent, Marik, and he still hold a presence within Ryou. That's very dangerous! Has he made an appearance? Has he tried to hurt you? Or anybody else?" She pressed him with questions, her voice tight.

Marik thought back to the many times the Spirit managed to corner him. He remembered the scratches and bites he received, usually meant to be both painful and sensual. The most recent attack – which happened just the other night – was fresh in his mind.

He had been just falling asleep when he had felt weight on him. The Spirit had managed to pin him against the couch, his knees digging into the back of Marik's legs. He had struggled desperately, gaining a few scratches in the process.

"No, he hasn't." Marik lied, his voice wavering.

He could tell Ishizu was suspicious by the way she sighed. "Marik..."

"He hasn't! It's fine. Don't worry, Sister, I can care for myself."

"I can't help but worry for you, my dear brother..." Though she didn't say it, he knew she was thinking about all those years where he was in an incredibly dark place. He appreciated the fact she didn't elaborate.

"I'll be fine. I won't let that bastard take me over again. It's impossible. He's _gone. _"

"Bakura – I mean, the Spirit of the Ring – isn't. And I know you trust him, but I'm hesitant of you talking with him. Just get out of there as quickly as possible."

"I know." Marik frowned deeply, "I know."

Only, he didn't know. He had no plans to leave anytime soon; it was impossible. He had nowhere to go at the moment, unless he moved in with one of his siblings. At this point however, that was hardly en option. There was no way he could bare burdening them any longer, not after everything he put them through. With a guilty stare at the floor he stammered, "Ah, I need to go. I'll talk to you soon."

"Oh. Okay, Marik. I'll talk to you soon. Stay safe."

He barely got out a 'you too' before he threw the phone down. He sighed, tugging his legs up to his chest and staring at particularly nothing.

…

_Marik found himself standing in the middle of the Ryou's bedroom, arms stiffly hanging by his side. He wasn't entirely sure what he was doing, or how he got in the room in the first place._

_He felt drowsy, as if he just woke up, so he headed into the bathroom. There were no other noises, so he assumed Ryou left for class or work. The bronze man didn't look at the mirror as he padded to the sink and turned on the water. He flicked the frigid liquid onto his face, feeling his skin ache from the cold._

_When he turned of the water and shifted his gaze to the mirror, he almost screamed in astonishment._

_That was not him._

_Golden locks flared upwards, muscles bulged underneath taut, bronze skin. Three violent eyes stared back at him: two violet, and one gold that was pushing grotesquely through the flesh of his forehead. It was bleeding, sending streams of thick liquid down his face, but his demented reflection took no notice._

_A twisted grin took over his lips, and Marik tried to take a horrified step back, but an intangible force kept him from doing so. Invisible hands gripped his scrawnier arms, holding him in place. His heart beat wildly within his rib cage, threatening to burst._

_"Y-you..." he choked out, his voice raising an octave._

_The smirk grew. A long tongue pushed through pink lips, deliciously curling around the chapped flesh. He said nothing as a deranged look came over his face._

_He began laughing. He laughed until he was nearly shrieking. He raised a hand, forcing the Marik of the real world to do the same. He was helplessly mimicking his yami's actions, limbs trembling with effort to repress the spell._

_"Stop! STOP!" Marik commanded, but of no avail. His other half didn't even blink as he dug his fingernails into his cheek. Marik yowled as blood trickled out from under his fingers._

_Nails pushed past skin, curling underneath the flesh._

_He let out a blood curdling scream, desperately trying to regain control. The invisible hold gripped him tighter, and the cruel man in the mirror began ripping at the layer of skin. Flesh fell from his face, exposing muscle and bone._

_"S-STOP – STO-P-P," He howled uncontrollably, whimpering pathetically as he felt his own fingers dig into his face. Blood spilled everywhere, along with bits of flesh and tendrils of muscle. He could feel raw bone beneath his slick digits. The crimson liquid bubbled out from the sides of his face as his yami continuously scratched out the flesh, peeling the skin as if peeling an orange._

_Marik sobbed and shook as his body mimicked the deranged darkness. His inhumane laugh echoed within his head, making his skull want to burst. It was all so much – too much – it hurt –_

His eyes ripped open to see Ryou's worried face only inches from his own. Marik's fingers were locked around the other's pale arm. He practically threw the arm away before darting up into a sitting position, eyes wild.

"Marik?" Ryou pressed, "Marik –"

Marik's head whipped around. There were still fresh tears in the corners of his eyes as he whimpered, "_It was him."_

Ryou eyes shone with understanding immediately. "You were having a violent fit. It sounded bad."

Marik wiped some cool sweat from his brow with a quivering hand,"I-it was." He struggled to correct his frantic breathing.

"I tried to wake you," Ryou bit his lip. "You weren't waking, but you responded." He rubbed his arm that Marik had previously been gripping before putting a hand on Marik's shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.

Marik flinched at the touch, but it was welcomed. The sensation grounded him, keeping him from hysteria. His body quacked, and he brought his knees up to his chest, clenching them close. Behind his eyes the image of his darker half's cruel gaze was tormenting him.

"It's not real, Marik." Ryou's voice was very sincere, awkwardly moving his palm in a small circle in a comforting manner, "It's not real. You're here. You're okay."

Marik turned to Ryou, his gaze not all the way there. He felt anxious and sick, but Ryou's voice was comforting him. It brought him to reality.

With a few more shaky breaths, he nodded. "I-it wasn't real... it felt real." even though it was his face that had been ripped at in his nightmare, it was his back that hurt now. The pattern of his scars stung as if they were fresh cuts, still oozing with blood.

"What happened, if you don't mind me asking? You don't have to reply." Ryou sat down next to him on the couch.

Marik's eyes distanced. "It was just... just my darkness. I looked in a mirror... and he was there." Marik turned to Ryou with wide, frightened eyes. "I was forced to copy what he did... and... he just began pulling _off his skin_, like a Goddamned onion." The analogy was made to lighten the mood; it did anything but. A shudder rippled through his body.

Ryou looked horrified as he rubbed Marik's shoulder. "That sounds scary. I'm sorry, Marik."

He rubbed his face with a shaky hand. "It... it just freaked me out. I'm fine, now." Once his breathing began to steady and hit heart rate returned to normal, he began wondering why Ryou was hear in the first place. "T-thanks..."

Ryou withdrew his hand and offered him a weak smile. "I was in my room reading. I was actually just about to go to bed when I heard you... I figured I should wake you up, because you actually spoke words."

Marik rubbed his throat, feeling it sting. "Really?"

"You were shouting 'stop' a lot." Ryou's smile faltered, "I was worried because normally you just yell wordlessly a couple times."

"Gods... I'm sorry."

"It's quite alright. Like I said, I wasn't sleeping." He gave a reassuring smile. "When I came home late tonight you were passed out on the couch, so I figured you were tired?"

His mind drifted back to earlier that day. A frown spread across his face. "Ishizu called."

"If you don't mind me asking, doesn't that normally make you happy...? You always seem chipper after talking to her."

Marik nodded, "Normally yes, but, the conversation we had was just... unpleasant." When he looked up and saw the sympathy and kindness in Ryou's eyes, he knew that Ryou truly had no voluntary connection to the Spirit of the Ring. He was just far too good. He disliked anything evil, and he hated mistreating people or treating them badly. There wasn't an ounce of maliciousness in Ryou.

_Ishizu doesn't know what she's talking about, _he decided.

"Thanks again for waking me up. I really didn't want that dream to continue." He shuddered, trying to push the cruel look of his yami's violet eyes from his mind.

Ryou smiled sweetly, "It's no problem. I understand nightmares."

Marik, with shaking limbs, adjusted himself so he was sitting properly on the couch. He clicked on the television, deciding that he didn't want to sleep. "Wanna watch?"

Ryou shrugged, "Sure. I'm not very tired anyway."

They watched some infomercials, since those made up most programs at the late hour. There wasn't much conversation between the two, but the company was still comforting. Eventually, Marik fell into a very unpleasant sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Waking up was a struggle for Marik Ishtar. He was leaning against the back cushions of the couch, his neck cocked in a painful manner. His sleep had been shallow yet dreamless, which he was partially thankful for, but he felt anything but well-rested. He stood, his body creaking, as he followed pleasant smells wafting in from the kitchen.

A tired looking Ryou was was busy cleaning some dishes at the sink. He didn't notice Marik's presence until the man stood directly beside him, "Marik!" He jumped, startled, "Good morning." He turned off the faucet. "How are you feeling?"

He rubbed his head, wincing, "I have a headache and... I just don't feel well at all, to be honest."

Ryou frowned. "Maybe breakfast will help," he offered meagerly, "I made something you mentioned you liked before."

"What would that be?"

A smile came across his face, "You'll see. It'll be done soon." He went back to the dishes.

Marik sighed, deciding to head to the bathroom and answering the call of nature before splashing some cold water on his face. Looking to the mirror made him feel rather uncomfortable. Memories of his seeing his dark personality flooded back, and he rushed out of the bathroom.

Sweet smells were already wafting throughout the flat from the kitchen, and soon Marik recognized the scent.

"Banana bread!"

Ryou gave him a small smile as he pulled the moist loaf from the oven. The two sat together and Marik ended up eating almost half the loaf. Ryou was an okay cook, but he had an _incredible_ talent for baking sweets. He rarely ever had the time, but when he did, he could make the most magnificent cakes, muffins, breads, etc.

"Hey, Marik," the paler man started offhandedly as he downed some juice, "Would you like to do something today?"

Marik, who had a mouth full of bread, looked up, surprised. "Sure," he mumbled, crumbs covering his front, "But don't you have school?"

"Well, yes, but I don't have work, and I feel like doing something... if you want."

Marik thought about it. "Sure, why not? I don't do much except lounge these days," he laughed. He thought about it, though, then added, "There's a library at your school isn't there?"

"Yes."

"I could come with you, maybe," He suggested, "I..." to be completely honest, he didn't feel like being alone all morning, "I could read for a bit."

"Okay, that be fine. Actually, that will be easier." He finished his own bread, then stood from the table. "But we're leaving in a half an hour. I'm going to shower."

...

An hour later, Marik and Ryou were both bundled up and walking to the the university from the bus stop. Marik cuddled deep into the scarf, huffing at the cold November air.

"Public transportation is weird." He mumbled offhandedly.

"It's not that weird. You've just never taken a bus before," Ryou chuckled. "You'll get used to it."

"I don't want to get used to it." He pushed air through his lips, "I miss my motorcycle."

As they walked across campus, Ryou pointed some buildings out, and answered Marik's questions. He had never been to a school before, and he found his curiosity was taking over. Once Ryou went to class, he tracked down the library and spent the whole morning there.

As he tucked himself away into a corner, he soon realized the error of his ways. He couldn't even /read/ most of the books in this library, since most of the text was in kanji, to which he couldn't understand. It was rather pathetic, and the only other language he could find was English, which he couldn't read (or even speak) either. He was stuck struggling with the simplest book he could find, but rather than actually attempting to read it, he found his eyes wondering...

From where he sat, he stared around the library, watching the other students. They milled around in their own little circles, chuckling quietly to each other or studying hard for the upcoming exams that Ryou had been stressing over. As he watched, he couldn't help but feel a pang of resentment deep in his chest. These teenagers likely grew up normal. They had normal parents, went to a normal school, had normal friends and goals...

_Did they understand the meaning of suffering?_

No. Of course they didn't. They lived in their own little comfortable lives, probably never batting an eyelash at the prospect of anything but their little bubble. What would they think if they knew his past? The things he had done? Would they allow their guard to drop being in the same room as him? Did they have any inkling they were only metres away from a murderer?

He squeezed the forgotten book in his hands, feeling the resentment bubble in his throat like bile. If it wasn't for the ridiculous clan he had grown up in, he would be a normal student now. He'd have normal friends, a normal family and a normal life. He wouldn't understand what it meant to be the murderer of both your parents, nor the feeling of being a vicious gang leader as a teenager.

His hands would be free of innocent blood. Hell, he probably still be a virgin and blushing at the prospect of going all the way with somebody. A normal Marik wouldn't have any inkling of what the best way of disposing a body would be, or what kind of horrors lay in other worlds, other dimensions.

Marik couldn't help but feel the pangs of self pity, which lead to anger.

His blood ran cold. _Anger._

It was these thoughts that had driven him to such madness prior. He thought he was done being resentful towards his life and feeling rage towards others. In fact, just feeling any form of hatred or anger made him feel absolutely sick to his stomach. It reminded him of... the darker days. The days where he was wrapped up in a cloak of shadows and hate, not even leaving to regard his own brother as nothing more than a servant.

Upon thinking of poor Rishid, he banished the negative qualms. He couldn't keep thinking in that manner...

Turning away from the innocence of the library, he concentrated on the book in hand.

…

It had warmed up when Marik and Ryou left the school. He cast a glance at Ryou, "So what are we doing?"

"I was actually going to ask you if you wanted to do anything specific."

As he asked, a growl arose from his stomach. "Lunch?"

Marik spotted a sushi place across the road, so he lead them both to it, but Ryou halted, his face scrunched up. "Uh, Marik..."

"Hm? What?"

"I really hate fish," He chuckled nervously, "I mean if you really want sushi that's fine, but I cannot handle any sort of seafood."

Well, that made a lot of sense. No wonder he never made any fish dishes for meals despite seafood being common in Japan. He figured it was because he was being sensitive to Marik's eating habits. "That's fine then, I don't want you to eat anything you wouldn't want."

Despite Marik being a vegetarian, it wasn't a strict diet to him. He didn't mind occasionally having meat if it was put out in front of him. Taking the lead again, he walked down the streets of Domino, thankful for Ryou's university being in the middle of a busy and popular district.

He wasn't entirely sure where he was going though, so he walked until he found a cutesy cafe and scurried inside, suddenly feeling flustered and self conscious that he was walking them around in aimless circles.

It was a medium sized place for a cafe and it was themed light pink and peachy orange with white oak tables that were covered with frilly white cloths. He wasn't sure how he managed to pick such a place, but he figured it wasn't a big deal as long as they ate. They sat down near the front window.

Ryou was looking around, "I've never been in here before, but a lot of the girls at school come here for lunch."

Marik wasn't surprised, considering how cutesy the place was. "Hopefully it's good," he replied offhandedly, looking through the menu for the cheapest thing he could find.

Ryou noticed and offered a smile, "I'll pay Marik, it's fine."

Marik scratched his head awkwardly. Not having a lot of money was certainly an inconvenience. "It's not fine." He sighed, "I'm an adult I should be able to pay for my own food."

Never mind the fact Ryou has been technically buying a majority of his food for the last several months. It made him feel rather pathetic. With a sigh, he settled on some fried noodles while Ryou got some curry and rice.

"I understand, Marik. It isn't easy getting a job when you have no formal education records... do you even have a birth certificate or anything?"

"I'm not sure... I mean, I was born underground on a cot with the help of a wet nurse and a doctor that probably wouldn't even be considered a doctor, he just had basic medical training." He put his forehead in his palm in exasperation. "Obviously not enough of a doctor to save my mother." He added bitterly under his breath, mostly to himself. He was still in a sour mood from his time brooding in the library earlier that morning.

Ryou looked a little a taken back before continuing, "Perhaps there are some paper records. Could you ask your siblings?"

Marik sighed, "I'm not sure if they'd know..."

"Well, if I'm not mistaken, your sister has a very important job, doesn't she?" Ryou asked, looking thoughtful.

It was then that a pink-dressed waiter bounced up, a delighted smile on her face and a tea pot in her hand. She poured the steaming liquid into each respective cup. "What would you two like today?"

They gave their orders, and the waiter nodded, jotting it down before moving away, a slight dance in her step.

"I suppose..." Marik finally replied, absently spooning sugar into his tea. "She is rather important... she really made something of herself in the years after we left." He felt a burst of pride, "I mean, for a somebody who technically didn't legally exist to be so important! Not to mention she's a woman – there aren't a lot of high-standing women in Egypt."

Ryou nodded in agreement.

"She made something of herself..." he suddenly felt the bitterness return. "And what was I off doing? Plotting to kill the Pharaoh? Hurting and murdering innocent people?" A scowl took over his face.

Ryou's face softened, "That wasn't your fault, Marik. You know that."

"Wasn't it, though?" He hissed a little too harshly, "I shouldn't have given in to the anger, to the darkness that eventually consumed me."

"I probably would have done the same in your situation."

"_I murdered and skinned my father!" _Marik snarled, a little too loud.

Marik didn't often feel anger these days, not since his other half was destroyed so many months ago. To feel such rage again made him feel sick... and afraid. Sure, he'd get a little irritated or exasperated, but feeling down right anger was frightening. It made him feel ill.

"That wasn't you, Marik." Ryou said heavily, lowering his voice for the sake of the girls who were shifting their gazes to their table, "It wasn't you."

"It was a part of me. My darker half was a part of me, therefore, I did all those things. I killed my father – I killed all those people – I nearly killed my siblings, the only people that have ever given a damn about me. I put everybody in such jeopardy."

When Marik set out to enjoy lunch with Ryou, he didn't plan for himself to start blubbering. He was holding managing to hold back frustrated tears – but for how much longer, he didn't know. He didn't want Ryou – or anybody for that matter – to see him get so worked up.

Marik abruptly stood up, "Excuse me." He managed politely with a shaky voice before he rushed to the back of the cafe to the bathrooms, where he threw himself into one of the stalls.

He slammed the door shut and threw his fist against the hard plastic door. And again. And again, until his whole arm throbbed and his knuckles split. He was furious, and the terrifying emotion was beginning to take him over.

_Why am I so angry? _He thought in despair and frustration. _I thought I was done feeling such a toxic emotion. _He punched the door again for good measure, leaving a bloody smear.

He thought about what he said, and his body tensed up, his spine trembling. Ishizu had been in the same position as him. She lived under the tyranny of their father, she had to put up with the teachings, the beatings, the abuse, the work. On top of it, she had to be a mother to Marik when he was a youth, which just made her whole job more difficult.

And yet, she didn't go ballistic, kill her father, start an evil cult and try and kill the resurrection of the Pharaoh.

No, she took charge of her life, got a job at a museum, and worked her way to an incredibly high position in only a few years. It was shameful, really, how childish he had been for so much of his life.

The bathroom door opened. He pursed his lips and stood up straight, trying to control his breathing so the other person wouldn't hear him.

Soft steps padded towards the stall, and a quiet voice called out, "Marik..?"

_Damn it, Ryou. _He should have known the kind soul would have followed him.

_Maybe that's what I wanted._

He didn't open the stall, he just leaned against the wall.

"Marik, if that's you in there, which I'm pretty sure it is, then please come out here." Ryou begged, "I don't really want to say this through a stall."

Marik didn't really want to leave the stall. He probably looked like a mess. After fiddling with the hem of his shirt, though, he finally pushed through the door.

"What do you want, Ryou?" He asked, his voice tired and irritated.

It was off-putting. He normally sounded very calm and content. Hearing his own voice become so similar to how it used to be made his stomach churn.

"Marik... I don't want you blaming yourself so much." Ryou began, looking at him wide chestnut eyes. "It's not your fault... I'd wish you'd see that."

Marik shook his head, "I... I don't think I could ever _not_ blame myself. I caused so much pain for so many people, and I haven't done anything with my life. It's pathetic. _I'm pathetic._"

"That doesn't mean it's the end, Marik." Ryou said firmly, yet quietly. He stepped closer, "You're eighteen, Marik. You're still young. You have so much to life to live. You can step away from your past, and _move on_."

The words hit him hard.

Move on.

"Some awful stuff happened, Marik, there's no denying that. It wasn't your fault, and it's behind you. You don't have to keep getting so wrapped up in it," he smiled softly, "There are people now who have forgiven what your dark half did. Ishizu, Rishid, even Yugi and the others. And... I have as well. I did a long time ago, you know that."

Marik felt himself calm at Ryou's words. He pushed air carefully through his lips, staring at the other. He stepped a bit closer, into Ryou's personal space, and into his heat. Before he knew what he was doing, his arms were firmly around the others lithe body. He couldn't help it as he buried his face into Ryou's shoulder, in some vain attempt to hide his pitiful face.

Ryou was taken entirely by surprise, and he wasn't entirely sure what to thing, but he returned the embrace, knowing that this was what Marik needed. He just didn't except such a gesture, especially since Marik was always adamant about not touching him.

"You're right." Marik murmured, his voice low. "I need to move on." He sighed shakily, trying to truly understand the meaning of those words.

Ryou tried not to touch the other's back, knowing it might bother him. He struggled to do something with his arms, so he pet Marik's hair instead. Suddenly that felt too intimate though, and the whole situation felt awkward.

But Marik's hair was soft. Not as soft as his own, but it felt like golden silk in his slender fingers. He found himself absently stroking the strands, fond of the soft sensation.

Marik finally pulled away, his face clearer than before. "Thank you... I'm sorry about the way I acted."

"It's quite alright Marik. I understand." Some part of him was disappointed Marik ended the embrace, "Let's go back to the table before the food arrives, or else they'll think we left."

Marik nodded and followed Ryou out of the bathroom. Lunch was calmer from that point. They talked back and forth, avoiding any topics that might potentially lead to a negative conversation. Ryou told him about his classes that day, but there wasn't much else going on in his life.

They were full by the time they were done, and after Ryou paid the correct yen, they were out on the street once more.

They did some window shopping, and even headed into some stores, though they didn't find anything worth paying for. Marik didn't normally do this kind of thing, he realized, as they walked down yet another street. In fact, he wasn't sure if he'd ever actually just window shopped down the street with a friend.

It was fun, and he found his excitement getting the better of him. He observed the fashion in the clothing stores, critiquing the mannequins in the front windows, to which Ryou chuckled.

They ended up at a small game shop, so they went inside. It wasn't Marik's sort of thing, but Ryou went crazy. He flipped through the new comics before filing through some games. He ended up buying a packet of Duel Monster cards. Though he had little interest in competitive playing, he was still a collector.

"Who knows, there might be a good card in here," he said as he tucked the packet away in his pant pocket.

"Do you plan on playing Duel Monsters ever again?"

"Maybe for fun... but, after all that's happened, I'm not sure if I want to do much more than collect the cards I like." He shrugged a little awkwardly. "What did you do to all of yours anyways?"

"They're back with Ishizu and Rishid. Nearly all of them were stolen, so I'd feel bad about using them, especially the rare ones... maybe I'll ask her to send them and you can have them?"

Ryou's eyes lit up, "Really? You wouldn't mind?"

Marik shrugged, "They're just collecting dust." Duel Monsters gave him awful memories, so he had no interest in playing. He was actually a God-awful Duelist anyways.

Orange had taken over the sky by the time they headed home on the bus. It wasn't very late, but given the time of the year, it was already growing dark.

As Marik collapsed on the couch, he mulled over the day. He had tried not to think about his awful outburst during lunch, but it had been plaguing the edge of his mind the whole day. He felt ridiculous... yet he knew, the issues that he was so concerned over were very valid.

He was glad Ryou was around to talk some sense into him.

* * *

THEY DID THE HUG.

i actually haven't worked on this in two-three weeks. i have through chapter 9 done, though. wooo.

reviews are welcome! i'd like to hear opinions.


	7. Chapter 7

i wrote this chapter like a month ago whilst surrounded by drunk people.

happy birthday, ryou! 8)

* * *

The weeks slipped by. Winter had officially taken hold of Domino, much to Marik's disdain. Oh how he hated the cold weather. This was his first Winter outside of Egypt, and so far, he was _hating it. _The constant snow, ice and grey skies certainly took a toll on his mood and his health.

Aside from the weather conditions however, Marik had been making some improvements. He had called Ishizu and asked how to get proper identification, and she agreed to mail some documents his way that would help him in his journey to become a normal citizen.

He also learned how to successfully use the washing machine without getting bubbles everywhere or pissing Ryou off, which was a huge achievement.

The remaining tension that had lingered the last few months had long since melted as well. The air between the two flatmates felt clearer, less suffocating and more inviting. It was a huge relief to the guilty man, who, up until a little while ago, was wracked with shame on a constant basis. It was becoming easier to control the guilt he felt each time he saw his roommate.

However, he still couldn't bring himself to get over the guilt he felt towards Rishid. He still struggled to talk to him as much as he did Ishizu. He knew his half brother was very lost at the moment... but he couldn't bring himself to partake in his life. All he could do was watch from the sidelines and hope.

He knew he wasn't doing anyone any favors.

_Perhaps more towards my birthday... _he had reasoned several times with himself. It was December after all, and the date that marked the death of his mother was growing ever closer. It sent chills up his spine to think about the 23th of December, so he just didn't.

Presently, Marik was splayed across the couch, his usual perch. He checked the time and considered making tea for Ryou's return. He knew the other man was terribly stressed from the school exams he was constantly studying for... they hadn't spent any time with each other in a week. It was boring around the apartment if Ryou wasn't willing to occasionally play video games or watch T.V.

The added stress had also resulted in the Spirit growing impatient and taking over even more. Marik had been cornered coming out of the bathroom just the previous night. Before that, Ryou had been absent all day because the Spirit decided to do... well, whatever he did in his spare time.

He wondered if he could get Ryou to stop studying for just a few hours tonight to do something fun.

_No, no, that wouldn't be fair to Ryou. These exams are important._

_ But he does need a break... he's been pushing himself hard. He's going to get sick at this rate. _

_And that _bastard_ that decided to take his body for a joy ride isn't exactly helping._

While he argued internally with himself, he pushed himself off the couch and boiled some water for tea (to be completely honest he could probably use some too). He stood at the counter, drumming his fingers and allowing his mind to wonder.

The tea-pot was steaming now, and it finally clicked to signify the water was hot enough. He poured the water into a cup, then dumped a tea-bag into it before settling down on the couch, the drink clenched within his fingers. Time ticked by as he allowed himself to become lost in thought, occasionally taking an absent sip of his hot drink. It felt nice in his belly.

He found himself growing more and more bored, however. He had finished his tea long ago, and was now doodling some pictures on the coffee table. He tried to draw his siblings, but he couldn't get the details right; it had been months since he saw them... he pushed a sigh through his lips and checked the time.

It was nearly seven o' clock now. Ryou normally got from class around two, unless he had work, which he didn't. Marik supposed he couldn't be surprised; he just hoped that the Spirit wouldn't return to bug him.

He got up, stretched, and meandered through the apartment like he had done so many times. There wasn't much to the pitiful flat, just the entry-way, the front room, the kitchen that doubled with a tiny dining area, then there was the hallway that lead off to the bathroom, the bedroom, and the area where the washing machine was located. To be honest, there was never anything look at, but he padded slowly into the dining room and took a dirty plate off the table with a lazy sigh.

He washed it out before leaving it in the sink, and began his bored trek into the hallway. He stared into the bathroom, wondering if he should tidy it, but the prospect wasn't that entertaining. Besides, it wasn't even that dirty. Just a few spare clothes laying around the floor, and a light mildew ring developing around the sink.

Part of him wanted to wander into Ryou's room, but he rarely went in there unless he was grabbing clothes or was invited by the resident. He pushed through the door that stood ajar, heading into the darkened room.

It always felt chilly and distant; as if the room didn't actually exist. It was a strange phenomena that it always brought an uneasy feeling. Perhaps that was just him, he realized with a light shudder. He wandered over to the bed, aimlessly straightening out the wrinkled corner of the duvet.

Next, he stopped in front of a small cupboard. It only stood three feet off the ground, and Marik realized he had never actually seen it open. He touched the worn handle, giving it a gentle tug. It refused to open, so Marik abandoned the old piece of furniture, coming to the conclusion he needed a key to look inside.

He padded to the desk that sat under the window, absently aligning some pencils that laid in disarray. A textbook lay open, while papers were haphazardly stacked on top of it, all covered in quickly written kanji that Marik had trouble reading, though he could guess they were notes.

An old laptop sat at the edge of the desk, and Marik wondered why he never saw Ryou use it. He had personally never properly used a computer. In fact, whenever he encountered one, he found himself become frustrated with the strange contraption. Such things had not existed underground.

He sat down in the chair and began opening drawers, finding things that would be expected in a desk. Some papers, old bills, unused pens... it was all just dusty junk. Unsurprising.

Eventually he found a journal, and he pulled up. It looked old with frayed edges and smudgy pencil marks. Although, when he entered it, Marik suddenly found himself invading a very private world. The kanji was unstable, as if written by a youth just learning how to write, but he could still understand bits and pieces. On each page, there was a paragraph or two of writing, and each page started the same way:

_Dear Amane._

It became obvious that these writings were from many, many years ago. Ryou wrote about his old schools, friends he made, things he learned. It was sort of endearing to Marik, or at least, what he could understand.

He found his heart growing heavy as he read through each one. They were so simple and innocent, from what he could understand. It was such a tender side to Ryou, the days before the Spirit had arrived. He seemingly wasn't even deterred by the loss of his sister, although, occasionally, he would see hints that it had hit him hard.

_...i miss you and mom..._

He put a hand to his mouth as the words hit him hard. He never knew his mother, so when she died, he never mourned. But Ryou... Ryou had known his mother, and his sister before they passed. It probably didn't help that he hadn't even hit his first decade of life yet.

With a deep sigh and wavering fingers, he turned the page and continued. He was so engrossed in his discovery that he didn't notice the noises coming from the other end of the flat. He found that near the last of the entry's, Ryou's tone took a darker turn. He wasn't expecting it, but he certainly wasn't surprised. It was then that he mentioned getting a _strange yet beautiful _gift from his father.

.._.he said it comes from Egypt! It's really neat, but it makes me feel weird..._

He was about to flip to the final entry, when a noise arose from the other side of the room. "Marik! What are you doing in –"

Marik whipped around, dread forming in the pit of his stomach like ice. "Ryou – uh –" he attempted clumsily.

Ryou's confused gaze drifted downwards to the object in Marik's grasp. He gasped and rushed over, tearing the journal from Marik's grip, "What are you doing with this?!" he shouted, his voice on the edge of panic. "Did you rip it?! Did you write in it?!" He looked it over, his eyes wide.

"No –! No I didn't!" Marik claimed, jumping out of the chair. "I just randomly found it –! I was very careful!" His voice was dripping with guilt.

"Why do you have this in the first place?" Ryou wailed, stomping his foot and clenching the journal close to him. "This is very private, there's a reason I had it hidden!"

Marik flinched at Ryou's voice, which was borderline dripping with venom. "I didn't mean to find it!"

"You didn't mean to – _MARIK!_ It was at the bottom of my drawer under a bunch of stuff, it was _hidden_ – it wasn't exactly sitting out in the open!" He spat, furious.

"I'm sorry!" Marik repeated, "I'm sorry – I just – I didn't know what was inside when I found it..." He trailed away, looking down at his wavering hands.

Ryou glared for a few more moments, his eyes blazing with Spirit-like anger. Marik had never seen such rage come from the other man. He dropped his head, knowing he was entirely at fault here, and began internally cursing his curious nature.

Suddenly, Ryou's fiery glower melted once more into kind chocolate pools, "I didn't mean to yell." His voice was quiet, and he pressed the notebook a bit closer to his chest. "I'm guessing you read it, so you understand why it's so important to me."

Marik couldn't meet Ryou's eye. He was ashamed to have been caught looking into Ryou's most private thoughts. "You had a right to." He simply said replied before preparing to walk away, but Ryou was looking at him curiously.

"Marik... you look like you were crying?" It was a tentative question.

Marik pursed his lips and frantically rubbed his eyes. Admittedly, he had teared up, which made the situation all the more shameful. "I wasn't," he argued fruitlessly. "The... the journal was just dusty."

Ryou frowned and tucked the journal back in its place. "The only other person to see these was the Spirit," he commented offhandedly, "...and my dad. I never really shared the letters with anybody, though. And then the Spirit spoke to me. He said it was futile to be writing letters to Amane..." he trailed away, shrugging. "Anyway, I stopped after a while, but I kept the notes." He made sure the journal was safely in its place before shutting the drawer.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I suppose I should have gotten rid of the notebook a long time ago, but I never did." He straightened up and faced Marik, his expression unreadable. "I couldn't find myself able to get rid of it... I tried throwing it away many times, but I never could, so I just tucked it away."

"...Why do you feel the need to keep it?"

"It's special to me. It symbolizes a different time in my life. Before the Spirit came. Before everything became worse."

Ryou stepped closer, to his flatmate, using a thumb to wipe away a stray tear on Marik's chin."I'm sorry you were saddened by the journal. You shouldn't cry for me."

Marik pushed a sigh through his lips, ignoring the slight flutter in his stomach at the delicate contact Ryou offered him. "Don't apologize for something I brought onto myself. I shouldn't have looked at something that meant so much to you. I had no idea you wrote to your sister."

"It's not something I share."

There was a tense moment. Marik felt as if he should leave, but he couldn't bring himself to. Instead, he played with the hem of his shirt, looking thoughtful.

"Ryou? Do you mind if I ask you about your sister?"

He looked surprised by the question, and Marik wondered if he had stepped out of bounds. However, Ryou simply sat down on the bed. "I don't mind." He replied, something resembling a sad smile on his face.

Marik moved to the bed and sat as well, though he kept his distance. "What was she like?"

Ryou looked thoughtful as he pondered over the question before starting, his voice low, "Amane was... was very full of life. Yes, that would be a good way to describe her. Always really happy and always loved to play. It was really fun spending time with her... I played alone until she came along, and then suddenly I had a playmate." He chuckled as his gaze drifted away, seeing something that was lost long ago. "I'd play with her barbies, and she would play with my dinosaurs. We lived right next a park, so we'd go every day. Her favorite was the swings. I would push her and she'd laugh when she got really high."

Suddenly he laughed, "One time she fell off and started crying. I was so scared – I thought she was going to die! But she just ended up having a bad scratch on her knee."

"How much younger was she?"

"She was younger than me by about four years. I was already in third year of primary school when she started, so I used to walk her there. She was so scared her first day, but I assured her it would be fine. Since she was a girl, she wasn't bullied for her long, white hair."

"She had hair like you?" Marik asked, amused.

"Yes," he chuckled. "It was a lot like mine. Like I said, she wasn't bullied for it though, since she was a girl and it was normal for girls to have long, strangely colored hair."

"Does that mean that... you were..?"

He shrugged, "The boys made fun of me, but the girls thought I was cute. That's how it went most of my school experience, to be honest. We were always very similar though, or at least, that's what a lot of people said. If I wasn't so much taller, than we would have been considered twins... oh, wait!" He hopped off the bed and went over to his closet. There was quite a bit of rustling before he returned with a small, wooden box.

Marik watched curiously as Ryou riffled through it. He pulled out a photo and showed the other man, who studied it eagerly.

It was a young Ryou, standing side by side with an even younger girl. She was about a foot shorter than him, and they both had huge grins across their faces. It was a sunny day, and they were standing in front of a small school clothed in new-looking uniforms.

Marik blinked. They did look a lot alike, and Amane appeared to be the sweetest little girl. Marik returned the photo, looking almost sad, "She... she does look a lot like you."

"Yes." He tucked it back in the box before pulling out another photo, "Here's us at the New Years festival. Amane had the cutest kimono." He laughed again, "I thought she looked so pretty I asked if I could have one too. Obviously I got some ridiculous stares from mom."

Marik joined in the laughter, imagining a young Ryou in a traditional Japanese kimono before gazing at the photo. It was Amane and Ryou laughing, walking through the lit-up streets of a festival. Amane's kimono was pink with white trim and orange flowers. She did look rather adorable in it, the way it flared a little while she attempted to run in sandals. Ryou was struggling to keep up. He had a thrilled expression on as he ran, yakitori hanging out of his mouth.

It was truly an image of child innocence. Marik felt a pang of resentment, but shooed it away and handed the photo back. "You're right, it is a cute kimono."

Ryou nodded in agreement before riffling through the photos some more. "My mother was from England, so we celebrated Christmas in a more Western manner." He pulled out a couple of pictures, these all featuring beautiful strings of lights, wrapped presents and a towering pine tree.

One showed the two siblings attempting to hang up some lights in the window. Ryou looked frustrated, while Amane had a huge grin on her face. He turned to the next one, which was the two siblings standing next to a woman in the kitchen. She had a bowl of cookie dough, and Ryou was attempting to reach in the batter with his finger, a mischievous smirk on his face.

"Wow Ryou, scandalous." He chuckled playfully as he pointed to it, "Trying to steal cookie dough from your own mother."

"Mom made the best sweets," he grinned widely, his eyes softening, "We were making sugar cookies that day. They were _so_ buttery – and we got to decorate them with sprinkles!" He gestured to the next picture in the pile, which were the mismatch shaped cookies covered in piles of sprinkles.

"Those look delicious."

"They _were_ delicious. We had to set some out for Santa though, but we got to eat the rest. We ate until we got stomach aches! Then of course we were up late late because of all the sugar."

Marik chuckled, turning to the next photo, which was the siblings unwrapping presents.

"That was a good year. We got a Nintendo – which I still have somewhere," he added offhandedly. "I played it for days after that. I whined like crazy when I had to let Amane have a turn."

Marik grinned at him before turning to the next picture. This one was...

It struck Marik. It was evening, so the photo was dark. The only light was a weak lamp. A white-haired man laid back in an arm chair, both Amane and Ryou curled up on either side of him. They were asleep, all tucked up with a fuzzy blanket, while the man held a book labeled 'Fairy Tales'. He was smiling fondly at them.

The scene was so heart-warming and so domestic, and yet... Marik couldn't help but feel sad.

"Who is that?" He asked, pointing to the man in the photo, though, he had a pretty good idea of who it was.

"That? That is my father."

Marik found himself staring at the photo for a long time, before he finally returned it to Ryou.

"That was before he went on another trip. We didn't want him to go... he was almost never around because he was busy." Ryou explained. "He was always on trips... although, a couple times he took us along. That's actually how I learned the little Arabic I know."

His tone lightened, and he began burrowing through the box until he found an envelope. "This was one of our trips to Egypt."

Marik took it and began flipping through the photos.

These pictures made Marik feel rather off. They were of his home land, though the presence of the siblings within the photos made him feel better. Many were of the small family visiting impressive buildings, statues and pyramids. There was one of Ryou wearing a funny hat, while there was another of Amane poking at a fountain.

Then there was a picture of Ryou next to his dad, helping him uncover something in the dust. It didn't look like it was of importance, but the child looked absolutely thrilled.

"I was so happy that day. When I was a child, I always wanted to do what he did. I helped him unearth a piece of a clay pot. They had thousands like it, but I was still overjoyed. Everybody at the dig site laughed and congratulated me, and my father was proud of me!"

"Anyways... Amane wasn't interested in stuff like this. She said it was messy and dusty and that history was boring. We actually fought over it a few times!" The smile returned to his face, "I would always try to tell her about how cool mummies were, but she would just get scared and say it was stupid. Then I'd stick my tongue out at her – nine year old me thought that was the perfect comeback."

A fond smile came over Marik's face as he watched Ryou talk about such things. There was a different light to his eye, something Marik had never seen before. He turned his gaze back to the photos, which continued showing the Bakura family in a relaxing and domestic light. His father didn't appear in many, it mostly featured the siblings and occasionally the mother.

His mother certainly was beautiful, in her own way. She had a mother's kind face. Pink lips, soft eyes, and she always regarded her children with love. Marik couldn't help but wonder if his own mother would have done the same to him and his siblings.

_There was no doubt in my mind she would._

He remembered those nights were he wished his lost mother was alive, tears illuminated by the dying candle. Rishid and Ishizu were at his side, and they would murmur stories about their late mother. How kind she was... how much she loved all of them... it seeded warmth in his belly and put his racing mind asleep.

"Your mother was pretty. I see you get a lot of your looks from her." The compliment spilled out of his mouth before he could stop it.

Ryou scratched the side of his face, looking bashful. "Yes, she was a beautiful woman. Amane always said she wanted to be as pretty as her. Amane would try to do her own hair like Mom's. She never could do it quite right though and it ended up a huge, tangled mess," he grinned, "She also tried to do my hair like Mom's too. I bet there's a picture in here..." he began digging in the box.

Marik smiled with amusement as he imagined Ryou's hair up in a feminine style. The image he conjured was... cute. It dusted a soft blush against his cheeks.

He glanced over to Ryou, who was frozen in place now. He slowly pulled a photo from the box, a frown on his face. "This... this was taken only days before the accident."

Marik leaned over the other's shoulder, staring at the picture. It was of Amane and him curled up under a blanket on a couch. They were curled up together, bundled in blankets and pillows.

"We were waiting for Dad to come home; he was late. We were so excited to see him, since it had been months. Mom let us stay up late to greet him but it got later... and later..." his voice drifted for a moment. "The next morning our mom told us that he wouldn't be home for a week."

He sighed, putting the photo back, "The accident was a few days later. He was back in time for the funeral." Ryou closed the box and returned it to its dusty corner in the closet. When he returned, Marik gestured him closer.

He took Ryou by the hand, his grip gentle. The touch sent a prickle of electricity through him as he tugged Ryou until he stood in front of him. He stroked Ryou's smooth hand with a tan thumb, lilac gaze soft.

"Thank you for sharing all that with me." He murmured as he searched the other's face.

"It felt good to talk about them..." Ryou admitted, staring absently at their interlocked hands. "It's been so long."

"You can tell me about them anytime you want, if you feel the need." He offered gently, "I like listening." He pulled Ryou closer before encasing him in his arms. He felt he needed to hug the scrawny boy after he shared all of that.

His arms easily wrapped around Ryou's lithe body; he felt so small in Marik's arms. From his sitting position, he planted his face into Ryou's front, feeling hesitant arms come around him as well. It was a quiet, tender moment between the two.

Ryou's voice was soft as he spoke, "If you ever want to... to talk about your family, I wouldn't mind. But if you didn't want to, I'd understand."

Marik's grip went tighter as a seed of dread formed in the pit of his stomach.

"Maybe some day."


	8. Chapter 8

The two had a quiet evening after the whole notebook endeavor. For dinner, Ryou made a couple bowls of spinach goma-ae with Marik hovering over his shoulder. It was a developing habit that made Ryou feel slightly uncomfortable. It was bothersome but... he couldn't find himself the will to complain. Because really, it was strangely nice having company in the kitchen, he was just unused to it.

After dinner, Ryou left to take a shower.

It wasn't long before Marik, whom was attempting to read a low-level Japanese book (in an attempt to better himself with the written language), found himself being squished by a scrawny yet heavy being. He struggled for a moment as the book was torn out of his hands and cast aside.

The Spirit was above him, pinning him to the couch cushions. Upon realizing who it was, he struggled more, "Get off of me!" He snarled.

The Spirit leaned in, a cocky grin on his face. "I don't think so. I'm quite content right here."

Marik let out an angry huff. He was in no position to move, especially since the Spirit's hand was around his windpipe. There was only a light pressure, but Marik knew better not to push the malevolent soul.

"What the hell do you want, then?" He finally grunted.

The other chuckled. It sounded crass and barbarous on his tongue, so unlike the gentle giggles of the host. The Spirit arched down, keeping a careful grip on Marik's throat up until his lips was touching the sensitive skin. His teeth found Marik's flesh, and the poor bronze man couldn't keep the moan from bubbling out of his mouth.

The Spirit knew how to work Ryou's tongue and mouth fairly well, but he was an _expert_ when it came to his teeth. A pair of sharp canines came down on Marik's collarbone, and he let out and unrestrained cry. The Spirit sneered into his skin as blood welled from the puncture. He gave it a suck, drawing more noises from the writhing Egyptian.

_Damn it, damn it, damn it – _

Cognitive thought was vanquished as the Spirit of the Ring bit him again, leaving a reddening, bloody hickey on his bronze throat.

"Don't have anything to say now, my dear Marik?" The Spirit purred malevolently, fangs flashing.

"Shut up," Marik growled, giving a violent shove. But he was in a compromising position, especially with the other's knee pressed against his crotch, and those lithe digits around his neck once more. There wasn't much he could do.

"I can tell that you're a little frustrated, my precious Tomb Keeper," the Spirit mocked, licking his lips. He carefully drew his hand between Marik's legs. "Frustrated _here._"

He tried not to groan as the Spirit cupped his clothed manhood. It was hard from the few minutes of foreplay, which was just ridiculous. He couldn't deny, being deprived of sexual activities _did _make him uptight.

But he wouldn't give in.

"_Yadonushi's_ body is very deprived as well. I can feel it. _It's fucking frustrating."_ He added the last part with a snarl, and suddenly the grip on his throat became tighter.

"I could very well kill you. I could kill you and fuck your body." The Spirit drawled, his voice dripping with venom. "But I so much prefer your cock in my ass."

Marik moaned, fidgeting uncomfortably. He tried to pry the hand off his neck, but the pressure became more intense with each attempt. He looked up at the Spirit, eyes poisonous and glaring daggers.

The Spirit gave another grope to his clothed erection, and tendrils of desire soared through the pinned Egyptian, causing him to gasp and tip his head back. He had been so deprived that being touched in the simplest of ways was driving him up the wall.

The Spirit sneered, however, he removed himself, leaving the winded Marik laying helplessly on the couch. "You can relax for now, my _dear_ Tomb Keeper. I have no use for you right now." He turned and walked straight out the front door.

And so, Marik was left hot and bothered on the couch. It took him at least five minutes to control his breathing before he let out a scream and punched the side of the couch.

"That _dick._" Although, he was more angry at himself for letting it happen.

Sighing and feeling dirty, he got up and padded to the shower, being sure to lock the door on his way in. However, when he was in the shower and rubbing shampoo into his hair, his mind mulled over the Spirit's words and realized he was right.

_I can't believe the that asshole actually made a point. _

He touched the fresh bites, wincing as he grazed them with soapy fingers. He could still feel the lingering lust in his crotch, fogging his good judgment. With a stubborn huff, he leaned his forehead against the cool tile.

With a deep inhale, he shamefully allowed memories to spill into his mind. The feeling of tongue and teeth against his throat... the brush of sweaty bodies...

He held his face, hating himself for what he was thinking about, but he stroked himself with a tanned hand, shuddering as his palm touched sensitive skin. It wasn't long before he was pumping himself hard, his thoughts as fuzzy as the steam curling around him.

Marik came, white spattering against the light blue tile. He panted for a moment, stroking until his orgasm died down to a dull, unsatisfied ache.

Frustrated, he washed the wall and himself before turning off the water and yanking his towel off the rack.

_Pathetic. _

_ …_

It was late into the night when Marik awoke to a thud. He had been in the middle of an unpleasant dream, so the interruption was welcome. He dragged himself from the couch, yawning and scratching his lower back sloppily.

Following the noise, he found it lead him to the front door. Curious, he unlocked and opened it, and a disheveled Ryou tumbled into the apartment, landing heavily on the floor.

"R-ryou!" Marik gasped, taken by surprise as he slumped in the door frame.

"Eh...hn..." Ryou fumbled with his words, "H-help me in."

Marik did just that. With strong arms, he hoisted the smaller man to his feet and helped him to the couch. "Are you okay? Did _he _fuck up your body good this time?"

Ryou leaned back against the couch. He was breathing heavily and had some blood on various places of his body, but didn't seem too beat up. The worst was a light gash near his brow that had bled into his eye.

"I don't know what the hell he did," Ryou spat. He rarely cursed unless he meant it. "All I know is that after he got hurt he dumped my consciousness back and left me to deal with it. Unsurprising really," He sighed, "but my head is killing me. Would you mind grabbing me some aspirin...?"

"Of course."

Marik left and swiftly returned with a glass of water and a couple of pills in his palm. While Ryou was busy with that, Marik went off to the bathroom and dug around for medical supplies. He returned with ointment, bandages and a wet rag. He handed them off to Ryou, who thanked him.

"Most of this blood isn't mine..." Ryou explained as he wiped it from his forearms.

"That looks like a nasty cut." Marik observed as he sat down.

Ryou began patting it down, though he couldn't see what he was doing. Marik took the rag from him and cleaned the blood instead, being gentle around the open wound.

"It hurts pretty bad. The pain killers will help, though." Ryou murmured, closing both his eyes and allowing Marik to tenderly clean the crimson liquid from his face. The paler man wasn't used to being touched, so the contact made him uneasy, yet at peace. A strange mixture, he found.

Marik was careful to get all the blood off before planting an ointment-covered bandage to the cut. Ryou winced, and Marik murmured an apology.

"Thanks..." Ryou muttered, patting the band-aid. "I don't feel so sticky, now."

"There was a lot of blood. Are you sure that's the only wound?"

Ryou smiled, though it seemed more forlorn than anything. "I don't know, to be honest. I'll probably find more injuries the next time I shower."

Marik scowled. That wasn't a good answer, but he was in no position to argue.

Ryou was looking at him curiously now. He reached out a finger and before Marik could make sense of what he was doing, the pallid digit brushed one of the bite marks on his neck.

"Marik..." Ryou began, "He did this to you, didn't he?" There was a distrustful glint in his eye.

Marik winced and shuddered at the contact to his sensitive skin. He pushed Ryou's hand away gently, giving him a stern stare. "He did. This is as far as he got though, before he left."

"If he hadn't left, would you have allowed him to go farther?"

Marik growled, looking away. There was disgust across his features. "Of course not."

"I won't be angry if you would have... I mean, you did before –"

He whipped around, eyes blazing, "I'll never fuck him again! I'm never going to do that to your body. I don't care what he does to me, but I will not let that happen. I am very adamant on that fact, Ryou. If I ever do, you are free to kick me out of this apartment and out of your life."

Ryou sighed and took to rubbing his arm. Seeing Marik suddenly lose his temper reminded him painfully of how the man used to act. Although he didn't know him personally during that time period, because of the mind-link with the Spirit, he knew. "I'm sorry for what the Spirit did. I tried to fight him off and refuse him, but he was very persistent. It takes a lot of energy to keep him contained."

Marik lifted a hand to silence him, "You're in no position to apologize. I already know what kind of toll he takes on you... for now you should probably rest."

He didn't look convinced as his eyes scanned the marks dotting Marik's neck and collarbone. He then put his fingers to his lips, looking distant. "I suppose so. I have to get up early tomorrow."

"You work hard, Ryou. Perhaps you should take the day off."

He shook his head, "There's too much to do. Exams are almost here... it'll be winter break soon, though." He hoisted himself off the couch, "I'll see you in the morning."

Marik murmured a "goodnight" before laying down on the couch, trying to adjust to the flattened cushions.

…

It had been several hours of hard studying and Ryou was done with it. His head felt overloaded with information, leaving a dull ache in the back of his skull. With a sigh, he hoisted his bookbag higher onto his shoulder as he stood on the subway, keeping steady even as the train turned a sharp corner. His eyes were distant, even when the train stopped and he got off.

He was bundled up in a black sweater with a ribcage on the front, and it was warm. He burrowed deeper into it as he began walking to his destination.

_All of your flaws and all of my flaws_

_ They lie there hand in hand_

_ Ones we've inherited, ones that we learned_

_ They pass from man to man_ [1]

Ryou found himself calmly humming along to the song he was listening to as he walked across the cement sidewalk, his shoes clapping puddles of cold rain water. It was always so dreary during winters in Domino. It was actually peaceful, but Ryou hated it when his hair was damp.

Although, at the moment, he couldn't bother to care at all. He was feeling very morbid ever since he woke up this morning. It wasn't a pleasant mood. He just drifted through his normal routine, not really caring much for communication or faking a cheerful attitude.

He figured it was just because of what had been bothering him.

Eventually, he made it to his destination: Domino Cemetery.

The arch-way leading into the open space was covered in ivy, giving it an overall eerie feeling. Ryou felt right at home right away though as he began walking on the cobblestone paths, which were broken by overgrown roots. To be completely honest, he preferred western-style graveyards, but this was just fine. The tightly packed headstones were broken by small expansions of grass and old ume trees that had yet to bloom.

Roots curled around some of the older tombstones that were left unattended to, cracking the bases. Although most of the headstones had been carefully taken care of. Ryou pulled out his earplugs to be respectful. The air was chilly and quiet. Nobody else was around that he could see, which he appreciated; he preferred to be without the presence of others at the moment.

He walked through the pathways, moving slowly up stairways and around trees. Eventually he sat on a bench that was protected from the misty rain by a tree. He pulled his legs up to his chest, his dull brown eyes looking onwards.

Graveyards were always a good place to think. People left you alone, and there was a sort of feel to the air; it was heavy and dreary, yet it wasn't sad. Not to him, anyway. It was... peaceful. He almost wished his late family had graves here, but his father didn't pay for them to have a plot. Instead, their urns went to Egypt with his father.

He supposed he didn't mind. There wasn't much he could to about it, since his father was very adamant on having the ashes be sent with him rather than be kept with Ryou.

It would have been nice to visit a gravestone though. Ryou had even passed a flower shop on the way here and almost yearned to get some flowers that he knew his mother had liked. But it would have just been a waste of money, since she didn't have a headstone here anyways.

He heard quiet murmuring and glanced up to see an older woman towing along a young girl. He presumed they were mother and daughter. They held flowers and incense, and the child looked excited as she hopped along behind her mother.

"We're almost to Dad's grave!" She chirped.

The mother smiled, but when she met Ryou's eye her smile fell. "Be quiet until we get there, Saku. This is a place of quiet and respect."

He turned away.

At least somebody else was here to keep the dead company. Other than those two, he had yet to see anybody here. Nobody was giving their ancestors and relatives the respect they deserved in the afterlife. He sighed, wondering if there were any spirits dwelling here, alone. It twirled his finger along the bench, tracing circles along the cherry wood.

Graveyards made him think about such things.

Were the spirits lonely?

Did they enjoy their family visiting them?

Were they even aware they were dead?

If they weren't, did they wonder why nobody looked at them?

Spoke to them?

A puff of warm hair came from his lips as he secured his arms around his knees. The air was so quiet now that the two others had gone further up the path. They were likely visiting their family shrine. Though burning incense wouldn't be very effective in the rain, even if it were as light as this.

Still, he was sure the spirits would appreciate it.

He hoped off the bench and left the cemetery, only to return approximately fifteen minutes later holding a bundle of different kinds of flowers. He paced along the cobblestone paths, looking over different headstones. The decrepit, forgotten ones made him feel sympathy, so he took a flower and put it on the base of the stone before moving on. Unattended headstones always made him feel very doleful. If Amane or his mother had a patch of land, he would eagerly tend to it every week. The cemetery made him feel at peace, and he would jump at the chance to honor the spirits of his lost family.

Eventually he was out of flowers. He smiled, pleased with himself as he looked over the flowers that were now all carefully put at the base of many headstones. It looked livelier this way. He wondered if the spirits were happier, now.

Somewhere, deep within his mind, there was cruel, mocking laughter. He pointedly ignored it, not allowing the Spirit of the Ring to dampen his mood. It was easy to ignore him until he started pressing into his conscious when he wanted out.

Feeling better than when he arrived, he sat down on the wet steps, suddenly not caring if he got his rear wet. He wanted to be close to the headstones. He wanted to feel connected to the dead. He brought his knees up to his chest once more, this time looking on with a very faint smile painted across his face. He was sure the spirits were happy now.

Ryou put his chin on his knees. He wondered if anybody else got the same feelings he did when he was in a cemetery. He doubted it. They were places of mourning. Most people he saw here were sad. They were crying, or had a gloomy aura. It was understandable, but Ryou couldn't find himself thinking that way.

With a curious furrow of his brow, he wondered how his wayward roommate would think of visiting a graveyard. He probably wouldn't enjoy it very much. In fact, like most people, Marik could quite possibly fear cemeteries.

Then again, he would never know unless he asked. He took out his phone (which was a rather unimpressive slide phone) and quickly typed the question.

_ Do you like cemeteries?_

He almost never texted Marik, so he wasn't even sure if the other man would even reply. With a shrug, he pushed the phone back into his pocket and went back to his mindless mulling until his phone vibrated.

The reply was in Arabic.

_what?_

Marik was part of a cell phone plan with his family, so of course his phone would be in another language. Silly Ryou. He felt giddy. He searched through his keyboard options before replying with his earlier question in Arabic.

_i've never been to one. why ask_

Why _did _he ask?

_I was just wondering. _

He paused before sending another message.

_ Come meet me._

_okay. where are you?_

He grinned at his phone and quickly typed down what bus and then train to take before getting up and heading to the stop. He didn't have to wait long. He rocked back and forth on his feet, a small smile appearing on his face when the train came into view. It came to a halt, letting off a couple people, including a familiar Egyptian that was looking rather confused and unsure of himself. Ryou practically hopped over, his good mood spilling over into his jubilant steps.

Marik looked relieved when he spotted him. "I thought I got off on the wrong stop," he explained as the paler man came close.

"Good thing you didn't, then. Come on." He wasted no time turning around taking Marik's gloved hand and leading him down the street. He didn't notice the startled look that turned nervous on Marik's face at the gesture.

"So how was your day?"

Marik blinked, till looking a little confused about the whole thing. "Uneventful. I tried to cook rice for lunch, but it came out brown."

"I'm sure I've taught you how to make rice before!" Ryou exclaimed, giving Marik a sideways glance.

Marik grinned then, "Cooking really isn't my forte. That rice-cooker is a demon, anyways."

"That's true... it is rather old. But you can always make it on the stove."

"That would probably lead to more disaster!"

Ryou tutted, "So if you burned the rice, what did you have for lunch?"

"Well, uh, nothing. Since I spent so long trying to clean the damn gooey mess, and then you messaged me, so I didn't have the time." He shrugged.

"We'll get lunch later." Ryou replied with a smile. "But first, here," he gestured to a small flower shop, "Come with me."

He headed into the fragrant shop and bought another bundle of flowers. The shop lady looked fondly at him, "More flowers?" She giggled.

Ryou just chuckled politely in reply before taking the bundle and handing it over to Marik. "Here."

Marik looked looked perplexed as he took them. "Uh – what's this for?" Marik was familiar enough with the concept of flower-giving, and he wasn't sure what to think. Didn't you give them to a significant other?

Ryou smiled at the shop lady before guiding Marik out. "You'll see in a moment. We're almost there."

Marik just continued looking confused, but he tightly hung onto the flowers anyway. He followed him through the misty rain until they made it back to the cemetery.

"What are cemeteries like in Egypt, Marik?" Ryou asked as they began down the path.

Marik frowned, "Ironically, I'm not sure. I never paid attention because I never really cared. I would presume a typical graveyard. Why?"

He shrugged. "I was just wondering." He stopped in front of a dusty headstone. He rubbed the dirt and grime off with the side of his hand. "Here, people put flowers on graves and burn incense to cleanse the air." Ryou looked to the headstone, running a finger along the year in which the person died. "This person passed only three years ago and the headstone is already in disarray. Nobody visits them."

He took one of the flowers from Marik and laid it on the base of the stone. "I'm surprised. We're supposed to honor the dead and treat them with respect, yet people are so willing to forget."

Marik's gaze was trained on the flower. "Death scares people."

"Is that an excuse, though?" Ryou inquired as they continued walking.

"...I suppose not..." He mused for a moment. "So, do I just take a flower and put it on a gravestone?"

Ryou nodded, suddenly smiling. "I like to put them on the ones that look like have been abandoned."

Marik took one of the flowers, "What kinds are these anyway?"

"The white one you just picked up is a shiragiku." Ryou replied as Marik set it down at the base of a headstone just like his companion had done.

"That one is a suisen." He continued as Marik plucked a pretty yellow and white one from the batch and placed it.

Ryou took one. It was a small yet beautiful with indigo and pink petals. "This is a suitopi." He put it down. "Look... this one belongs to a child. They were only a couple years old." There was a sad smile on his face. He put a second flower down, "Hopefully the child is happy now."

Marik looked at him curiously. "What do you think of afterlife, Ryou? Do you believe in eternal salvation? Heaven? Hell? ...Nirvana?"

The continued walking as Ryou thought about it for a moment. "I used to be a Christian – my mother, who as you know, came from Britain. So taught me from the bible when I was a kid. My father was never a Christian, but he didn't have a problem with our mom teaching both Amane and I. We actually went to church a few times, which was _really_ boring," Ryou flashed him a grin before continuing. "Anyways. I stopped following the religion a long time ago. I don't really... believe in a God, but I do believe in spirits. I believe that there is a form of afterlife. It's actually kind of exciting. The concept that there are souls sharing the same space as us and we can't even see them." Ryou continued, his eyes glittering, "People will go out with cameras and recorders and actually see if they can contact spirits."

Marik half smiled, though he wasn't entirely sure of the concept. "You mean like ghost-hunting?"

"Yes! I'll show you a couple of shows on it sometime. It's neat." He grabbed a flower and put it on a dusty headstone. "I would actually like to do it one day, but I don't think it's possible."

"Why's that?"

"Well... it's hard to make a career out of it. Plus I would need to put together a team, or at least one or two other people, then I would need to have enough money to get all the equipment needed. Then I would need to spread the word and convince people that if there's something funny going on, it might be because of the paranormal. After all of that, there's a chance that the business wouldn't be successful." Ryou sighed, "It's just not a stable career. It'd be nice to do, but it's mostly just a dream."

Marik smiled, "Maybe one day... oh look, the last flower. Where shall we put it?"

Ryou guided Marik up some stone stairs until they got to the top of a small hill. From here, they could see the cemetery stretch out below them. There were a few other hills dotting the graveyard, though most of them had family shrines. This one however, lead to a ume tree that leaned to one side precariously. The roots curled down the path, beckoning visitors with twisted wood.

"You can pick one from up here. It's a nice view."

That was true. Not only could you see most of the cemetery here, but you could see the woods that boarded the property. It was a very thin patch of forest that was used as a barrier. It separated the cemetery from the rest of the city, isolating it, creating its own world within the leafy wall.

Ryou was busy appreciating the scenery. He didn't notice Marik gazing at him curiously, lilac eyes wide and questioning, appearing to be in thought.

"I'll give it you, then." He said finally.

Now it was Ryou's turn to look confused, "What?"

Marik gave Ryou a crooked smile and handed the remaining flower to him. "I'm giving it to you. I'm showing my appreciation."

"O-oh! Um, thanks," He took it, red dusting his cheeks. "Appreciation for what, though?"

"For everything. I guess it's kind of silly to be giving you a flower you bought, though..." he awkwardly scratched the back of his head.

Ryou smiled, "No, I like it. It's sweet. Thank you, Marik." He didn't want to say that giving a flower to another boy was a strange way to show appreciation. He thought it was a very kind gesture, and it warmed his heart. He clenched the flower within his hand, "So... want to go to lunch?"

"Yes. I'd like that."

"Good, because I'm starving."

"Ryou... you're always starving." Marik simply said as they walked back down the hill.

* * *

[1] Flaws by Bastille.

R&R? B)


	9. Chapter 9

Since his strange trip to the cemetery with Ryou last week, Marik took to drawing flowers.

He wasn't sure why, but it was almost therapeutic. For awhile, he sketched the flower he had given Ryou. He had drawn it from several angles, all the way to the point of its wilting. Marik had been proud of the sketch he had made right before they decided to throw the flower away. The petals had been browned and lifeless, and they drooped down along the stem. It was rather doleful, but the drawings he made were charming and strikingly accurate. Even Ryou praised him for it, which had curiously made his chest flutter.

But now, he had no more flowers to sketch, so he drew them from memory until Ryou let him borrow his laptop to look up reference pictures. But Marik, being as technology-impaired as he was, had no idea how to work the strange contraption. Marik wasn't unintelligent, not by any means; technology was simply lost on him. He had spent the better half of the morning trying to turn the damn thing on.

Presently, he was trying to figure out how to make images of flowers come up. What was he supposed to click? Or was he supposed to type in a "command"?

It was an absolute enigma, and Marik was growing frustrated.

However, the sudden sound of Ryou coming home took his attention. When the paler man came into the kitchen, he was beaming, which was surprising. Ryou had left in a less-than-wonderful mood this morning because one of his exams was today.

"Hey." Marik greeted from the table, giving him a curious look.

"Marik! Guess what happened!" He piped, coming to join him at the table. "My dad called today!"

"Oh? Really?" Marik blinked; in all the time he had been here, he had ever heard Ryou's father show up, or even call for that matter. He was sure the man had simply dropped off the grid. He cocked a brow curiously, waiting for Ryou to proceed.

"Yes! It's been months since I last talked to him." He sat down at the table, eagerly kicking his feet. "He said he wants to video call me on Skype tonight and talk to me face-to-face for a bit."

Marik smiled, though it was a little uneasy. "He didn't talk to you for months?"

"He was busy, silly! He works as an archaeologist, you know. He's a very important man among his coworkers." Pride was practically gushing from his mouth.

"Yeah... but it's been so long." Marik argued quietly, but Ryou didn't hear him. He had hopped up and went into the kitchen.

"I'm so excited...! Oh my gosh," Ryou bubbled over and began rambling. Marik listened halfway, though he wasn't entirely sure he was fond of Ryou's dad. Which he guessed wasn't fair. He didn't know much about Ryou's dad, but if memory served right, the man wasn't even around when Ryou's mother and sister passed... he frowned. Perhaps he was just being too biased. He wasn't going to lie; he was wary of any father-figure, for obvious reasons.

"I haven't spoken to him in a long time. Oh – maybe I can show him some of the cool books I bought! I bet he would like them!" Ryou continued, his eyes light, "Maybe he'll want to come visit too. I hope so... there's nowhere for him so stay, though." He frowned, "He could have my bed. I'd sleep on the floor," he comprised, the smile returning to his face.

"Whoa, calm down," Marik chuckled, "He hasn't even video called yet."

"I know, I'm just excited is all." Ryou returned to the table with a bowl of Ramen, although he was too distracted to eat it. "I've always really looked up to him."

"I don't know that much about your dad," _and what I do know isn't exactly positive. _

"Um. Well... he's really devoted to his work. He'll even be gone through holidays. He hasn't been home to celebrate New Years for a long time." Ryou awkwardly shifted in his chair, his smile faltering. "He works so much..."

"I guess he does."

"But he's also really smart! He went to college for years, and all his coworkers respect him. I've been with him on one of his expeditions. He told everybody else what to do and they all listened. He really knows what he's doing."

"Very impressive."

He began devouring his Ramen while nodding, "Yeah! I used to look up to him a lot when I was younger."

"It still seems like you do."

Ryou's eyes became distant and he paused mid-slurp, "Yes... yes, in some aspects, I still really look up to him." There was something unspoken in his statement, but he didn't continued.

Eventually, Ryou finished his meal and spent several hours fidgeting. He cleaned the kitchen, washing all of the dishes twice, did laundry, swept the floor... when everything was clean and there was nothing else to do, he remained full of energy. Marik tried to calm him down with conversation, but it always circled back to Ryou's father.

A few hours later, when it was almost six at night, it was time. Ryou eagerly sat on the couch, the laptop on the coffee table. Skype rung a few times before a pixeled display of a man began to take shape on the screen. Marik was curious, but he remained out of the frame and instead sat quietly on the edge of the couch, pretending to read a book.

"Hello!" Ryou greeted to the screen.

The image of his father finally became clear on the screen as the static faded. Needless to say, he was older than the pictures Marik had seen him in; the pictures were over fourteen years old after all. His face wasn't as round and soft as Ryou's; it was far more angular. His long, blue hair – unlike Ryou's fluffy locks – looked stringy and oily, though it was held back in a lazy ponytail.

When he leaned forward to fiddle with the camera, Marik could see the details in his face. He had crow's feet around the edges of his eyes, and his unattractive nose was slightly crooked. His lips looked thin and dry, and Marik couldn't help but curl his nose. It had already decided he didn't like the man, but his appearance made that dislike stronger.

He did his best not to show it as the elder spoke.

"Ryou. It's good to see to you."

Ryou beamed. He looked like he was about to burst. "Yes. It's been a long time."

"How have you been? You're still going to university, I presume?"

As Ryou replied eagerly and began describing some of the classes he was taking, Marik watched out of the corner of his eye. This man seemed so... stern. Not as stern as his own (he shuddered as a memory flashed within his mind) but his lips were pursed, and his eyes were hard. He nodded occasionally as he listened to Ryou

"It's good to hear you're doing well in your classes. And I assume your marks are up to par?"

"Yes. They are good – I study really hard. And after my exams this week, I'll be on winter break!"

"Good. Hopefully I'll be able to visit for a little while."

"Really?" Ryou asked. He seemed surprised and excited, but Marik was intelligent and observant in his own right, and he didn't miss the look that flitted across his friend's face. It seemed almost sad, but it passed far too quickly for Marik to analyze it properly.

"Maybe."

There was a bit of quiet, and Ryou fidgeted a little before continuing. "How's work?"

"It's okay. We've been uncovering what seems to have been a small village. Nothing too interesting, just remnants of old mud huts, pots, animal bones..." his voice seemed to trail off as Marik stopped listening. He didn't want to hear about Ancient Egyptian culture; it wasn't anything he didn't already know.

Instead he went back to watching Ryou for his reactions. He was far more interesting than listening to his father drone on and on about his job and discoveries. Ryou's face had taken a different form by now. He seemed happy, genuinely happy, but... the expression was so forlorn. He was just gazing at the image of his father, a soft smile on his face and his eyes despondent. The negativity was carefully camouflaged.

And then Ryou's eyes switched over to him. He raised a brow curiously, silently asking why Marik was staring at him. Marik didn't even realize he had been staring, so he frantically returned to his book, hoping his sudden panic didn't show on his face. Evidently it did, because Ryou gave a slight giggle.

"...And – Ryou? What are you looking at?"

Ryou's gaze switched back to the laptop screen. "Uh – sorry – my roommate was just being silly."

"Roommate? I wasn't aware you had a roommate."

"Oh... I didn't mention?" Ryou looked flustered now, but he scooted over to the edge of the frame and signaled for Marik to come closer. Marik only gave him a curious look before he set the book down and shuffled hesitantly over until he appeared in the video frame.

Ryou put a hand on his shoulder as he introduced him,"This is Ishtar Marik. He's been living with me for a few months."

"Er – hello, Bakura-san." He greeted politely, his surname feeling uncomfortable on his tongue.

The elder's eyes had narrowed slightly as he studied the man in front of him. "I'm Bakura Shirou. I'm sure you already know I'm Ryou's father. I wasn't aware anybody was living with my son. What are your relations to him, if you don't mind me asking?"

Marik opened his mouth to reply, but Ryou was quicker. "He's just an old friend of mine. He just needed a place to stay... I hope you don't mind."

"Well it would have been nice to know that the rent money I've been sending you had been going to two bodies instead of one." Shirou replied, looking uneasy.

"Sorry..." Ryou scratched the back of his head nervously, "Is it okay if he stays here, though? He has nowhere else to go."

Shirou didn't look happy with the idea. "That's fine, I suppose. I'm not going to kick somebody out onto the streets."

"Thank you, Bakura-san." Marik did his best to pull off his polite facade, hiding the scowl and quip he felt like delivering. He slid out of the frame, only to stop when Shirou called him back.

"Ishtar is your name? That sounds familiar."

Marik shifted, feeling uncomfortable under Shirou's scrutinizing gaze. "I don't know why it would. I've never met you."

Shirou furrowed his brow as he appeared to think on it. Using this opportunity, Marik slid away back to the corner of the couch and went back to the book he had no intention of reading.

Ryou shifted back into the center of the frame, "Thank you."

"You're welcome." His father replied, though he was staring downwards at the watch on his wrist. "Anyway, like I said earlier on the phone, I only had a few minutes..."

"...Oh. You're right. It has been almost twenty minutes. Um – it was good talking to you!"

"Of course. Good luck with your school work. I will call you later this week if I can go to Japan."

"Okay... goodbye."

Shirou signed off, his face disappearing from the screen. Ryou was left shuffling his hands in his lap, looking uncomfortable and and uneasy.

"...Are you okay?"

Ryou jumped and snapped his gaze to Marik, as if he had forgotten he wasn't alone. "I'm fine... It's just." He rubbed his arm, his lips pursed as he stared at the empty screen. "Maybe I should have asked you to be in another room."

"What –? Why?" Marik lowered the book, looking at his friend curiously. "I tried not to be rude to him."

"No, no! It's not that. You were fine, Marik. Just... this is a one bedroom apartment and you look all..._ flamboyant._.. and he already had suspicions and I think I just confirmed them!"

Marik wasn't sure he liked where this was going, "...confirmed what?"

Ryou groaned and shook his head. "Marik... he thinks we're gay! He – he probably thinks you're my boyfriend now!"

Marik ignored the coil in his stomach,"...Is that bad? Is he homophobic?"

Ryou was rubbing his temples. "I – I would guess so. He's never liked how I kept my hair long, and he always presses me to get a girlfriend. Whenever I mentioned male friends he'd actually ask me if they were just friends – all suspiciously too! Like he thought they were something more."

He shifted in his spot, feeling a little uncomfortable . "Shit. I should have gone to another room – or not make my presence known, at least."

Ryou shook his head and closed the lid of his laptop. "It's not your fault."

"What's going to happen? He won't stop sending rent money, will he?"

"I don't think so. I don't think he'd do that... but he might not want to visit... I don't know." He looked a little distant as he sat back against the couch and pulled his knees up. "I don't think he would have visited anyway. He hasn't come to Japan in over a year."

Marik put his book down and scooted back a little closer. "Does that happen a lot? Does he say he's going to visit but then doesn't?"

"Yes... but I mean, he's busy, so I don't mind. I really don't." Ryou sent him a weak smile, "I just don't want him assuming stuff that isn't true... that might change his opinion of me."

Marik sighed, feeling the familiar guilt in the pit of his stomach. Again, he brought woe and inconvenience to Ryou's life. "Maybe..." he began, "Maybe you could get a girlfriend?" He finally suggested, though the idea made his stomach curl unpleasantly.

Ryou pursed his lips, looking uncomfortable. "I don't think that would work, Marik."

He sighed irritably in response, though the annoyance was directed at the situation and not the man in front of him. "I'm sorry for fucking things up," he grumbled.

The other shook his head, "Like I said, it's okay... I mean, there was no way you could have known."

There was a silence that stretched between them as Marik went over their conversation in his head. Deciding there was nothing to add, he just said, "Your dad was sterner than I thought."

"Ah... yeah. He's like that when he's stressed. I think something's up, but I can't be sure."

More silence. Marik was tempted to turn back to the book he hadn't been reading when Ryou asked a question that made Marik's blood run cold.

"What was your father like, Marik?"

He didn't say anything at first, which lead to Ryou giving him a worried look. "If you don't want to share with me, that's quite alright. I was simply curious."

"No – no, it's fine. I mean, it's only fair, since you told me about your family." Marik gave his friend a weak smile, before he sighed and made himself comfortable. Ryou turned on the couch, facing him and watching curiously.

"I'll give you a bit of background. As you know, I grew up underground as a part of a clan of Tomb Keepers. There were many of us – the Ishtars were the main, head clan, while the rest of the families were guards and servants. And you already know about my sister Ishizu, and my adoptive brother Rishid. They were my only family aside from my father; my mother had died giving birth to me.

"My father was always strict. He was always very... rigid with rules. I always had to get up at the same time in the morning, and go to sleep at the same time in the evening. We ate three times a day, always at the exact same time. We were to bathe every two days. It was all very set; my father had kept this schedule for us for years and years. It was numbing, really, but it stuck. Even after leaving the clan I found myself keeping a similar schedule. It was hard to stay up past nightfall, and often times I would get sick because I was unable to eat three meals a day... anyway, I'm getting off track.

"My father oversaw my studying personally. My siblings were taught by other clan members, but my father was very adamant in teaching me himself. I started learning when I was four or five... I can't recall. I spent several hours a day reading books. Ancient scriptures of histories and languages... I learned everything about Ancient Egyptian culture, too. I could tell you more than any Museum.

"As much as I hate to say it, my father was a very literate man. He could read and write very well, and he knew everything he needed to know about being a Tomb Keeper. He was just an awful teacher; he always got... very _angry_ if I didn't understand something right away. I had to learn fast, or else he would become enraged. He was always telling me that the future of the Tomb Keeper Clan was reliant on me. It was all he ever talked about – how I was he next ruler of the Clan, and I had to prepare for the Pharaoh's arrival.

"He wasn't only angry when it came to learning – he was just a very angry man in general. He took it out on Rishid a lot, which made me very guilty. If something happened to me, it was Rishid who would suffer. Once I got bitten by a snake, and he whipped Rishid and threatened him with death. The scariest part was that he seemed to enjoy it. The times I saw him slap Rishid around, I would notice that he would get this_ look _on his face; it was as if being cruel to his kids got him off or something – ugh.

"It was scariest when he got angry at me, though... I admit, it was scarier than him getting angry with Rishid. With me, it was different. He would slap me, then he would bend over and tell me that I was the future, that I was important, that he loved me. It was sick, really, but when I was a child I had no clue that he was sick. I just knew that was supposed to love him too, even though I didn't want to. I couldn't hate him – if I hated him, he would have been angry.

"The night of the initiation was when I first truly felt resentment... it all came pouring out. I later learned from Ishizu that my dark personality had been born that night. I believe it too. I just.. remember the look on his face. He didn't look remorseful at all, he looked _thrilled_ to fucking carve the ancient secrets of the Pharaoh into my back. Even when I was screaming he continued – the blade was so hot. So hot... it burned so bad, and it hurt so much. And it never seemed to end. It went on and on, and I never got used to the pain. It just seemed to get worse, worse, worse..."

His voice trailed off as his whole body quivered. He shouldn't have gone into such detail; his back began to burn. Images and memories flashed within his mind's eye, and he couldn't stop the tremors that began to violently rip through his body. Ryou slid forward, putting a hand on Marik's shoulder comfortably, "It's okay. You don't have to continue."

Marik groaned and hunched over, putting his head in his hands. "I just – remembering."

"Are you okay? Are you in pain?" Ryou asked, his voice becoming worried.

"Yes. Back – back burns. It's bleeding." Marik hissed cryptically, his nail digging into his temples.

The other looked absolutely startled and shifted his gaze to Marik's back. Needless to say, there was seemingly no blood, but Ryou still seemed very worried. Marik barely noticed this. His breathing had become quicker, and his heart had begun to race. The fire was too close – the sickening stench of salty copper filled his nostrils. His father's cruel words slipped through his mind.

_Stop screaming. _

_ You are an Ishtar. _

_ You are the future._

_ I love you._

"He didn't stop. I begged for him to stop... and he didn't," Marik choked, squeezing his eyes shut. "It burns – it burns – it burns –!"

He was becoming hysteric. His words became quick and they slurred together. He barely heard Ryou, who was doing his best to comfort him.

"Marik! It's okay!" He was trying to say, both his hands on him now. "Marik, I'm going to see your back. To see if it really is bleeding."

Marik groaned, letting Ryou tug his shirt up over his head.

For Ryou, it was the first time he had truly rested his eyes on Marik's back; he was always very careful about keeping it covered, so Ryou had never seen it prior. Carefully, he let his finger touch the tip of one of the wings. The skin was hot under his touch, but it wasn't burning like Marik had claimed. He didn't see any blood either: just a marred expansion of skin.

At the touch, Marik hissed in pain. "Don't – it's burns."

Ryou withdrew his hand. "Wait here, okay?"

Marik nodded incoherently, trying his hardest to keep the images of his father at bay. He shouldn't have gone in so much depth – he shouldn't have thought about it. He shouldn't have, he shouldn't have, he shouldn't have. It burned and itched and hurt and Marik wanted nothing more than to scream out in frustration and claw at his own skin. He felt his own nails start to dig into the sides of his head.

Ryou's return was quick. He sat down on the couch next to him, holding a bottle of something Marik didn't pay any mind to. He squirted the substance into his hand and gently put his palm to Marik's back. It was a cooling cream, and it made Marik jump and flinch. His breathing was still quick and shallow, and as he turned his gaze to Ryou, he saw kindness.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked, his hand moving in slow, careful circles, covering his shoulder blades in the lotion-like substance.

Marik, out of habit, nearly told him 'yes', but he kept the word from leaving his mouth; his back was beginning to cool. He just shook his head and gripped the couch, allowing Ryou to move his slender fingers in careful circles. When the cream ran out, Ryou covered his hand in more and he began going over his mid-back. Marik sighed.

His palm slid tenderly over the scarred hieroglyphs, and his fingers ghosted over his spine. Marik was still tense, but his breathing began to slow to a normal rate. His back, which had felt like it was on fire, began to cool down until it was just blanketed in uncomfortable heat. Both of Ryou's hands were on his back now, gently spreading the substance across the expansion of his scars. As his skin gradually cooled, Marik's eyes slid closed.

"...Is it better?"

Marik mumbled incoherently in response before slowly nodding. He turned his head, sliding his lidded gaze to Ryou. There was a light red tinge to the paler man's cheeks as his hands lingered on the center of his back.

"...Yeah. It's better. It's just a little itchy now."

"That's good. I was worried." Marik felt regretful when Ryou removed his hands. He turned his body towards the paler man, feeling strangely comfortable without his shirt.

"What did you use?"

Ryou handed him the tube, "It's cooling lotion for burns... I wasn't sure what to use. You kept saying it was bleeding and burning, but I didn't see or feel anything..." he trailed off.

Marik gave a nervous shrug, "It happens when I think about... things I'd rather not remember."

"I shouldn't have asked you about your father," Ryou frowned, "I'm sorry –"

Marik raised a hand to quiet him, "Like I said, it's only fair, considering you told me about your family."

"Talking about my family doesn't make me upset though..." he scratched the back of his neck, "Does it bother you a lot?"

Marik looked at him curiously, so he elaborated, "Your back I mean."

"It does sometimes. The scars make my back very... tight, if that makes sense. It's difficult to bend over sometimes, and to stretch my arms out. My back tends to itch when I get angry as well, as if they were healing scabs."

Ryou gave him a sympathetic look, "And when does it hurt? When you... think about your father?"

He looked pained, but he nodded. "When I remember things that made my other personality stronger."

Ryou looked like he was thinking before he replied, "Well... if your back ever hurts, I don't mind putting more lotion on it – even if it's not burning. A massage might help with its tightness."

Marik froze at the offer. His back was, needless to say, a sensitive spot for him. Even the smallest, accidental brushes brought him some sense of discomfort. He had only tolerated Ryou's previous touch because it had made him feel better. It had made him stop hurting. But to actually agree to somebody touching him on his back – touching him in _general – _made him rather uncomfortable.

He had grown used to the discomfort his back brought; he barely felt it anymore. It only really bothered him when he got angry or felt a panic attack come on. Sometimes in the shower as well; the hot water pounding on his back sometimes brought on anxiety. However, the thought of having that discomfort becoming void was rather liberating. He just wasn't entirely confident in having somebody touch him on the back; it was a sensitive spot for him which, needless to say, also made it feel more intimate.

Ryou was still waiting for an answer, so after much internal conflict Marik finally gave him a weak nod.

* * *

I really didn't want to involve Ryou's dad until later, but w/e. Ryou's conflict with his father becomes very redundant because it's in a lot of fics, but unfortunately it's necessary for the story.

Also, Shirou is obviously a fan-given name. A friend and I used it in an RP and I just decided to keep it for the sake of personal consistency.


	10. Chapter 10

Ryou's hands smelled of cocoa. It was a comforting scent, one that was warm and sweet yet not overbearingly so. The reason for the strange scent coating his fingers and palms was because of the oil he had been using on Marik's back. For the last week or so, he was very diligent in rubbing Marik's back anytime the man claimed it felt tight and sore, which was quite often. His flatmate seemed hesitant at first, but grew used to it very quickly. Within days, he seemed quite comfortable in taking off his shirt and letting Ryou touch his back, as if it were completely normal.

He tried not to think that the reason of the action wasn't entirely selfish. He truly believed that he was helping Marik... but he found the attention he gave the other male was quite enjoyable on his own part. Perhaps it was just his hormones talking, though.

Ryou bit his lip, and tried not to think about those scarred caramel shoulders as he shuffled down the street. It was dry for once, though this blessing wouldn't last; the sky was blanketed in clouds, and the air was cold, promising snow within the evening. He was on his way to Domino Library, since his university library was closed for winter break. He burrowed himself in his plush scarf, seeing his destination in the distance, for which he was eternally grateful for; while he was bundled in a sweater and other appropriate garb, the air was still biting.

He sped into the building, welcoming the warmth that embraced him. He loosened his scarf and pulled off his gloves, folding them carefully before tucking them into the outer pocket of his messenger bag. He took a minute to rub his running nose with a tissue before he began trailing up an down the aisles. It wasn't long before he found the desired section. He began picking through the health books, each one labeled for how to give a massage.

Ryou bit his lip. He felt a little odd looking at books like this, but he kept telling himself it was for the good of his friend. Up until now, he had just been gently rubbing the surface of the skin, but to help the tightness and discomfort, he knew he should probably dig a little deeper...per say. He had attempted to do this, and ended up drawing a hiss of pain from Marik. He wasn't sure what he had did wrong, so he decided to research on the subject. To help Marik, of course.

He plucked a promising book off the shelf and skimmed through it. He felt his cheeks go a little hot at how suggestive some of the massages seemed to be... he quickly returned the book to the shelf and looked around nervously to see if anybody saw him. Obviously, nobody did; he was alone in that particular section. He exhaled and began shifting through the books, finding yet another one. This was one seemed tame and basic, so he slid to the floor and began reading chapter titles and random sentences.

After a few minutes, he found himself approving of the book, so he hoisted himself and checked it out. As he did this, he told himself over and over that it was for the good of Marik. It certainly wasn't because he walked to dig his palms into the handsomely sculpted back of the caramel colored man. It certainly wasn't because that ever since he had started rubbing Marik's back, a flame had kindled within up, pressing him to move his hands ever so slower, ever so lower...

He shook his head furiously, confusing and alarming the librarian that was helping him. He smiled sheepishly, internally scolding himself for becoming lost in thought. Somewhere in his head, he heard cruel laughter and mockery, but he ignored this. He had grown used to ignoring the voice in his head, even though that angered the Spirit.

He swiftly left the early, and upon checking the time on his mobile, he realized that he was earlier than he thought. He stuffed the book into his messenger bag and began walking around downtown Domino, watching people, window shopping, wasting time. It felt good to not have to worry about class, and simply enjoy himself a little. This brought the spirit boredom; he felt him pressing against the front of his conscious. Annoyed, he pushed back. He had already spent a good portion of the week in the depths of his own mind; the Spirit had taken over nearly every night. This left him feeling exhausted, though the feeling was commonplace for him, so he didn't think much of the sleepiness tugging at his eyelids and the fatigue dragging his body.

Eventually, his feet took him to a familiar flower shop. He enjoyed flowers; their scent was comforting, and certain species reminded him of grave yards. He slipped into the shop and began the browse the various fauna. There weren't a lot of different kinds, since it was the winter and it was difficult to mass grow species that lived outside of the colder months.

"Good afternoon," An elderly woman greeted as she appeared from the back of the shop. She moved lethargically, likely due to her older age.

He greeted her with a nod, "Good afternoon."

"Are you looking for anything in particular?"

Ryou thought about it before he shook his head. "Mostly I just came in here to browse. I like flowers, but I don't have much use for them at the moment, I'm afraid." He sounded regretful; he didn't like going into shops where he didn't plan on buying anything.

But the old woman smiled, "That's quite alright. If you need help with anything, let me know."

He murmured a thanks before returning to his thoughts. As he gazed at a carefully put together banquette, his mind couldn't help but straight. He thought of Marik; the bronze flatmate preoccupied his thoughts often these days, especially now. The alien feelings that had welled up during the last several days confused him. It made him almost uneasy and irritable, because he wasn't entirely sure what to do with them. He just knew he wanted to touch Marik more. His fingers tingled when he touched the caramel skin of his companion, and it lingered even after he was done rubbing his back.

And it just wasn't in his fingers. The tingling made itself present in his belly as well, sending tendrils of the strange feeling through his body. It wasn't an ache, it wasn't pain, it was just... there. It gave him the strangest flutters, followed by strange and obscure desires he had never felt for another human being. He wasn't sure what to make of it...

Again, the laughter echoed within his head. The damned Spirit was mocking him yet again, likely for knowing something he didn't. The Spirit knew him better, because he could access his most subconscious thoughts with ease.

_You're so pathetically clueless, Host._

He outwardly scowled at the voice, and made the decision to ignore it. It was never worth arguing with the Spirit; he always won the arguments anyway by taking over his body or mentally fucking with him. He let out an irritated exhale of breath, going back to his previous thoughts. As much as he wanted to work out these strange desires he had for Marik, he decided the best course of action would be to simply follow them, rather than to figure them out. It wasn't worth the added stress.

He jumped when something crashed behind him. When he turned, he saw the old woman shaking, tutting at bucket cut stems she had dropped behind the counter. Coaxed by his polite mannerisms, he darted over and promptly began helping her pick up the stray leaves and stems. They were were cold and wet against his fingers, making his skin numb.

"Oh, thank you dear boy." The woman smiled, grasping the counter.

"It's no problem." Ryou smiled politely, standing up once the floor had been rid of bits of plant. "That's a lot of trimmings." He observed.

"Ah, yes. I just got done tending to a fresh batch of flowers I just got this morning. I normally give the leaves and stems to the pet store down the street. The rabbits like to feed on them."

"Is that safe?"

She chuckled, "Of this particular plant, yes. But the journey is a little harder than usual in my old age."

He smiled again, "I can take the bucket for you. I can run it down there."

"You're kind to offer, but I'll have to decline. There's no way I could compensate you."

"You don't have to. It's just walking a bucket down the street, no big deal."

"If you insist..." she trailed off with a nod, "You don't seem like a bad kid, not that there was much you could do with a bucket of flower trimmings if you _were _a bad kid."

He nodded and grinned before he took the bucket and walked out of the shop. He heard mocking words from the Spirit, but he shrugged them off. He was a kind-hearted individual and didn't mind going out of his way to help strangers, especially if they were frail old woman.

He dropped the bucket off at the pet store. The man there thanked him and praised him for helping the old lady – whom they called Tanaka-san. He then let Ryou pet the rabbits, which he was eager to do. He liked fluffy animals, especially rabbits; his mother always called him and his sister 'little buns' when they were young because of their white, fluffy hair. He giggled at the tiny animals that wiggled their noses at him before he went back to the flower shop.

Tanaka smiled when he returned, "Thank you dear boy."

"You're welcome."

She gestured for him to come closer, which he hesitantly did. "I've been looking to hire another assistant, if you're interested..." she reached into a drawer at the counter and pulled out a sheet of paper, which upon reading, Ryou realized it was a job application.

"Oh, that's quite alright," he began, but then he thought about it. "I have a job, but I know somebody who has been looking. Would it be okay if I passed this along to him?"

Tanaka nodded, "That's quite alright. Just have him bring this back within a few days."

Excited, he took out the book from the library and tucked the sheet into it so it wouldn't get bent before returning it to his book bag. He gave Tanaka a polite goodbye before he rushed out of the shop and sped back to his apartment.

…

Ryou burst through the door, startling Marik, who was drawing on the floor. He got up as Ryou raced over. "I got something for you. I think you'll like it."

Curious, Marik followed Ryou into the conjoined kitchen and dining room. He cleared the table off, but before he grabbed the book out from his bag, he felt embarrassed. He commanded Marik to look away, which he did, with much confusion. Ryou plucked the paper out of the book and quickly hid it once more.

"Okay."

Marik turned around, still perplexed as ever as he looked at the piece of paper. He raised a brow, "A job application?"

Ryou nodded, "It's for that flower shop we visited once. The owner had a position open since she needed help I guess."

Marik still didn't look like he fully understood, but he slipped down onto a chair anyways. Ryou sat down across from him, plucking a pen from his bag. "I'll help you fill it out, then we can take it back tomorrow."

"Good, because I'm not sure how to fill one of these out..." he trailed his eyes over the paper, taking the pen that his flatmate had offered.

The two spent the next half hour filling he paper out. There were a lot of questions to be asked from both of them, regarding citizenship, taxes, proof of identity and so on. Marik had been working on becoming an official Japanese citizen, which made the whole thing easier. By the time it was done, Mariks chances of getting the job were promising. At least, Ryou hoped it was.

"Maybe we should add a resume to it...? She didn't say anything about one, but it may help."

Although, there wasn't much to put on a resume. While Marik had a lot of skills, he didn't have anything promising in his past. He couldn't list previous schools, volunteer jobs, clubs, past employers... so Ryou suddenly shook his head and said, "Never mind."

Marik didn't look like he was very willing to fill one out anyways. Living his flatmate to his devices, he went into his room and pulled out the book. He plopped down on his bed, curling up in a fluffy blanket and began reading. His stomach growled, but he didn't feel much like putting forth the effort to cook anything. He felt cold, and besides, he wanted to learn what he could to help Marik.

Time became irrelevant as he began his research. He read about a variety of techniques in back massaging; he learned where knots often are, and where the best areas to knead are, where to apply specific pressure, and how to alleviate stress and pain. With each word read, his mind kept straying to that bronze muscled back. He bit his lip, the pain distracting him from thoughts he preferred to not be having about his friend.

Sighing and pushing down the thoughts, he dived back into reading. Reading always came very naturally to him, even as a young child. It was easy to become lost within the words of a page. His reading skill had always been higher than his peers as well, much to his teacher's delight. His mother had always been proud of him as well, though after she was gone, the praises he received from his teachers seemed so empty. They seemed like they were based more on sympathy than his actual skill.

Another sigh. His mind kept straying, and it was irritating.

There was a knock on his door. Ryou scrambled to hide the blanket as it opened. Marik peered inside, looking guilty. Ryou recognized the face and he the question before it even left his flatmate's lips.

"My back is feeling a little sore..." he ventured, looking uncharacteristically nervous.

Ryou smiled broadly internally, but outwards he let only a humble smile show. "Do you want me to rub it?"

"If it isn't too much trouble."

Ryou pushed out of bed, shivering at the cold air of his room. He grabbed the bottle of cocoa butter oil off his desk and followed Marik into the living room. Like usual, he tried to ignore the slight burn to his cheeks when Marik peeled his t-shirt off, revealing his toned front. He seemingly didn't notice Ryou's behavior as he sat on the couch.

"Lay down."

Marik looked to him quizzically. Normally he would sit up for this, with Ryou behind him. After a moments hesitation, he did as he was told, laying flat on his stomach.

Ryou didn't like the eagerness coiling within him. He put some of the oil on his hand, rubbing it into his palms before he gingerly set them on Marik's tense back. He remembered what the book had told him, and with clumsy yet gentle hands, he spread the oil across the scarred surface. Marik was never relaxed in the beginning; his muscles and limbs were rigid.

In slow circles, he started with the small of Marik's back, near the bottom of the intricate design. Immediately, Marik noticed something different in Ryou's ministrations; he glanced back, a little curious, though he didn't say anything. Ryou's palms pressed into his skin, and he drew the oiled flesh over the caramel skin of his flatmate. The oil made his movements fluid, his strokes lethargic. He went slow, drawing the whole process out for as long as possible. He wanted to relax Marik, and he also wanted to feel and touch an area that was considered taboo; Marik had previously mentioned that he didn't let anybody touch his back, not even the Spirit, which made him feel somewhat special.

After Marik's back felt warm under his slick palms, he switched his ministrations to his knuckles and began kneading his skin lightly. He ran his knuckles up and down his flatmate's marred flesh, the skin shifting beneath his curled digits. By now, the muscles seemed to be less tense; this made Ryou internally smile, though his expression remained concentrated and neutral as his hands melded with the hot flesh of his back.

He tried not to get too hung up on how the muscles looked and felt beneath him. They were well toned, though not unpleasantly obvious. He appreciated a little muscle. Sometimes, Marik would shift ever so slightly. And Ryou could feel the muscles beneath the skin move beneath him. He would bite the inside of his lip at it this, using the pain to distract him from the other conflicting thoughts that swarmed into his head.

His knuckles had managed to relax Marik, so he switched back to this palms. He gently kneaded the areas between his shoulder blades, feeling the knots under the marred skin. He did his best to rub them out, before he drew his thumbs alongside Marik's spin, carefully avoiding the bone. He worked diligently, enjoying it almost as much as Marik. Upon thinking this, he glanced at Marik's face, and saw that his eyes were closed in bliss. He had the softest smile on his face, and Ryou's stomach churned. Rosy lips sat slightly open, and that was when he heard the softest moan emit from his throat. The noise shocked Ryou. His hands kept moving calmly and languidly, yet his heart told another story; it was beating rapidly within his chest, making him feel nervous and sweaty.

Then, he heard the noise again, but it was louder. It was somewhere between a throaty groan and a sigh, and_ that _made Ryou stop completely. This made Marik open his eyes, though they remained somewhat lidded beneath long lashes. He rose his head a little to gaze at Ryou. His face was in such absolute euphoria; it resembled an orgasmic afterglow.

"Ryou?" He mumbled, sounding lost.

"U-uh," his voice shook. "Sorry."

He began moving his hands again, and Marik sighed lightly in contentment. Ryou found it difficult to continue; he was getting the most disturbing and uneasy feeling developing in his very stomach. The noises that escaped Marik's throat were rare, but each one sent tendrils of electricity through his body, up to his neck down to his very toes.

Each moan was very throaty, barely above an exhale, but to Ryou they were amplified. He heard each airy sigh clearly, as if it Marik were breathing on his very ear lobe. His fingers shook as they moved across the expansion of his warmed skin. He tried not to show his developing nervousness, but his attempts were failing. He was _sure _his flatmate could hear his rapid heartbeat pounding against his ribcage.

"Ahhh..." Marik breathed, and Ryou stopped in his ministrations again. The moan had been loud, husky. It scared him, yet thrilled him.

His fingers lingered on Marik's shoulders once more as he flicked his gaze to Marik's. Lidded melted lavender met startled chestnut. It was a nerve-wracking moment, and it scared Ryou. It scared him more than it should have. He removed his fingers from him, trying to mumble an apology, though it came out as a ridiculous stumble of vowels.

Marik was sitting up now, and within moments that seemed to stretch into minutes, their faces were close. Too close; he could feel hot, flavored breath on his cheek, and those beautiful, exotic eyes were in full view.

"What... are you...?" Ryou tried breathlessly; he couldn't seem to fill his lungs.

A pair of ajar, rosy lips were hovering over his own, hesitating, contemplating. His body shook, but he didn't try and stop the other man from what he was doing. He couldn't possibly stop Marik from moving forward, their lips nearly touching...

Then, darkness cascaded over him.

* * *

Originally, this chapter was going to be super long, but I decided to be an uncreative ass and cut it off. Oooo dramatic~ (not really)

Thanks for the reviews/favs/follows. ;)


	11. Chapter 11

Love and other such tender emotions had always been lost on Marik. Even when he was a child, everybody around him had been emotionally distant. His sister had been more like a strict mother, and Rishid was his silent protector. He loved them both, and that love was returned, but the love was never really shown through words. They were shown through simple actions that went unseen by their father, who fully supported boundaries. The love was shown through the embrace of his sister when he was too scared to sleep at night. It was shown through the small shoulder pats brother would give him when he did something right.

So he didn't quite realize what he was feeling for his flatmate until he was touched by him. The back rubs.

It was the tender, light touch across his back that seemed to open the floodgates to the metaphorical river of emotion. As smart as Marik was, he had always been emotionally stunted, and his ability to process his own feelings was always somewhat of a hassle. That was one of the reasons why he created his darkness so many years ago, but this was different; this wasn't hatred and fear, this was something else entirely. It was similar to how he regarded his siblings.

Yet it was different, he didn't feel the need to touch his siblings, to kiss his siblings, to hold his siblings and never ever let go.

But he wanted to hug Ryou. Kiss him. Hold him. It wasn't a desire he was used to, and it made him uneasy. At first, he had convinced himself it was simply because he had once slept with the body that Ryou occupied. Though this made little sense; why would these feelings arise _now_?

It was a mystery to him. But... when he had felt those hands on his back, steadily rubbing away all the tension, he found that he couldn't be bothered with his own thoughts. He allowed them to melt away along with the pain and tightness that his muscles were plagued by so often. It got to the point that when Marik asked, he would feel guilty to request such a thing of his flatmate. He had already taken so much from him.

Ryou seemed to enjoy it though. He was always willing, and in fact, almost jumped at the suggestion. It was strange, but Marik happily accepted it.

When Ryou began using the oil, Marik was confused. But the warmth wasn't as unpleasant as he thought it would have been, and the scent of the oil reminded him like Ryou; it was sweet, but it wasn't sickeningly sweet. It was just... _pleasant._

It had been many days since Ryou had begun rubbing his back, and the floodgates of these mysterious, affectionate emotions had come forth. It made him feel flustered and weak; the pit of his stomach coiled, and the tips of his fingers felt jittery. He didn't know what was happening to him, so he just rolled with the feelings and tried not to stay awake into the early hours of the morning mulling over them.

Then, Ryou had done something different. Normally he sat up with Ryou behind him, but he had been asked to lay down. He did so, confused. And then Ryou had used more than the flat of his hands - he used his fingers, knuckles and palms. He massaged the sore, tightened muscle, and that's when he couldn't quite hold it in anymore. The noises he had made were feeble and pathetic, but he couldn't keep them from happening, not even with all his willpower. He just let them fumble quietly from his mouth, and fruitlessly prayed Ryou didn't hear them.

But Ryou had. He would pause or slow when Marik made the noises, which made him frown; he didn't want the feeling to stop. As Ryou worked on his back he had found himself in a blissful haze. He felt he was in the afterglow of sex - fully relaxed and satisfied.

When Ryou had stopped for a second time, his body moved on its own. He looked to Ryou, and he saw someone of absolute adoration. He was blushing, the pink brushed his porcelain cheeks. His red lips were slightly ajar, he was saying something, though Marik couldn't be bothered listening. He was drowning in the flood of emotions that seemed to be filling his chest.

He did was his body told him; his body told him to lean forward. His body told him to cast away any and all common sense that he had.

Marik's body told him to kiss Ryou.

But it wasn't Ryou he kissed. He knew that instantly; the change happened within seconds. He could feel the change of aura only moments before their lips merged. He could have roared in frustration when he felt the Spirit take Ryou's place as the body's controller.

Just like that, common sense flew back to him. He snarled and shoved the Spirit away from him. He stood immediately, watching the man fall right on his ass. But the Spirit wasn't deterred, he was fixing Marik with a dark, amused look.

"I have to say, I never thought I'd see you fall so low," the Spirit's harsh voice had taken Ryou's soft tone, "To have fallen for my meek and useless host."

The desire to maim the Spirit was very strong, but it was impossible while he existed in Ryou's body. "Shut up."

"Is that your best come back?" He rose to his feet, this time glaring daggers, "I've never heard such pathetic noises come from your mouth."

Marik grabbed him by the collar of the shirt and snarled, "Why the fuck did you come out?!"

The Spirit smirked cruelly, "I couldn't miss out on all the_ fun_, and I certainly couldn't let my host kiss you. You are _mine_."

"I'm not yours!" Marik roared. He was miffed. He was seeing red as he shoved the Spirit forward and pushed him against the wall with a thud. He probably bruised Ryou's body, but his anger was snuffing sense.

Despite Ryou's far weaker body, the Spirit could use it well. He violently shoved Marik away, then tripped him, causing the tanner man to cash backwards onto the coffee table. He hissed as the furniture dug into him. Then the Spirit was practically on top of him, pinning his body against the table.

"I. Own. You." The Spirit spat in Marik's face. He looked deranged now as he swung a punch at Marik, his knuckles colliding with his jaw. "And_ Yadonushi_ belongs to _Ore-sama_. I refuse to allow you two to go near each other; it's disgusting."

"We fucking live together," Marik spat. The Spirit punched him again, splitting a knuckle as he did.

"I don't give a shit. You can live together, but you will not engage."

"You can't tell me what to do," Marik hissed, finally shoving the Spirit off, though he simply staggered before straightening up.

"I do believe I can," he replied darkly. "You are pathetic. You are as pathetic as my host. At one time, you showed true potential, but after the Pharaoh beat you, you've become truly weak. I'm so fucking sick of it. I'm sick of you, and I'm sick of him." The Spirit snarled, "Do you have any idea how sickening it is to listen to _Yadonushi's _thoughts this whole week? Marik this and Marik that. _I am sick of it._"

The Spirit looked away, revolted. He stormed from the room, leaving Marik to nurse his injuries. The tension in his back had returned, and he was sure there would be a bruise where he landed on it. It itched terribly as well, though there was little he could do. He went to the kitchen and wet a rag before putting it to the hot, itchy surface. With a sigh, he leaned against the counter.

He heard yelling from the direction of Ryou's bedroom. Finally the Spirit emerged, wearing a trench coat. He was snarling to himself about his host not having normal clothes, which made Marik scoff.

"Where do you think you're going?" He asked roughly as he watched the Spirit shove on a pair of shoes.

He only got a scowl before the Spirit departed, slamming the door in his wake. Marik sighed. There was no point in stopping him. He just hoped it wouldn't fuck up Ryou's body too bad.

…

Of course Marik was worried. The Spirit stormed away around six the previous night, and it was late afternoon the next day. Marik had a terrible time sleeping; he kept thinking about what had happened the evening prior. He had made dinner for two, but ate alone. Ryou wouldn't have liked it anyway; the rice was sticky, and the vegetables he fried were still cold.

Finally, he couldn't take it. The sun had yet to set as he pulled on mittens, a scarf and a coat before slipping out into the cold. It had snowed all night and morning, blanketing Domino in fluffy white. The cloud-cover promised more in the near future. As he walked, he looked at his motorcycle wistfully, still untouched. He couldn't waste the last of the gas, though... with a sigh, he began walking. Moisture found its way through his shoes quite quickly, making his socks wet and his toes cold. He burrowed into the scarf and grumped to himself about the cold.

Marik was sure searching was fruitless, but he did it anyway. He started with any nearby bars in case the Spirit had gotten drunk and passed out. Seeing no sign of white hair, he continued his search. He glanced down alley ways, almost expecting to see the small frame of his flatmate slumped and bloody against the dingy brick walls.

An hour turned to two hours. The sky was darkening as he leaned tiredly against a building; he was exhausted, wet and cold. He wanted to go home and shower for several hours, then sit on the couch with a blanket and hot tea.

That was exactly what he wanted to do. But he couldn't.

If only the Spirit had taken Ryou's cell phone, then maybe he could have called his flatmate and asked his location. He bit the inside of his mouth, feeling overwhelmed with anxiety. He wasn't sure why he was so worried this time; the Spirit took Ryou's body out at night quite often...

He sighed and began walking again, his steps taking him down the street. He wondered if there was a possibility that Ryou had returned home while he was out. He resolved that checking back at the flat would be the next best thing, so he turned, taking a shortcut through a small neighborhood park. It was a nice little place with benches, trees and play equipment.

Then, by one in a million chance, he saw the fluffy mane of his roommate. He was laying haphazardly on a snowy bench, and Marik felt an icy grip of fear as he rushed over. Thankfully, he knew almost right away that the Spirit wasn't in control. He bent down and gave his flatmate a shake.

"Ryou?" He asked, trying to get she sleeping man's attention.

He got a grumble in response, followed by a complaint about being hungry and cold. Marik sighed and dusted the snow off his coat, "Are you okay?"

"I think so... there's no blood at least."

"Do you remember anything?"

"Nope," Ryou replied simply, rubbing his eyes. "No surprise though... what time is it?"

"A quarter past seven."

He frowned and gave another grumble, "What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for you." He shrugged, "I didn't expect to see you here though... come on, we should get you home. Do you have any idea how long you've been out here?"

"No, but Gods my head hurts..."

Marik took a step back as Ryou heaved himself off the bench. Marik took his elbow to steady him. He then pulled off his scarf and threw it around Ryou's neck.

"No, it's okay, you can keep it on," Ryou said, though he made no move to remove the warm wool.

"I don't think so. You need it more than I do. You're freezing."

"Yes, but unlike you, I can handle the cold."

Marik shrugged, "I'll live."

Ryou shook his head at Marik's stubbornness, though he visibly snuggled into the scarf and shivered.

"Here, you can have the mittens too."

"No, Marik, you keep them."

He gave Ryou a withering look, before deciding to make a bold and rather cheesy move on his part. He took the mitten off the hand closest to other's. He halted his steps and took Ryou's other hand, ignoring the protests, and shoved the wool cloth onto it. He then he took Ryou's uncovered frigid hand within his own, curling his warm digits around Ryou's frozen ones.

"Ah... you don't have to do that," Ryou told him meekly, though he made no move to detach his hand from Marik's.

"I don't _have_ to, but you'll freeze otherwise," Marik mocked, giving him a playful nudge with his shoulder. "I'm surprised you haven't already. He left in your body over twenty-four hours ago."

"He normally at least gives control back to me after he's made it back to the apartment. He must have been angry at something."

Marik clicked his tongue. "Do you remember anything before he took over?"

Though Ryou's face was already red from cold, the color intensified. "U-uh... a bit... he's still kind of mad. I can feel it," he then sighed.

"He bitched at me before leaving... but it wasn't important. I'm sorry though."

He shrugged, "I'm used to it. You know that... I apologize that you two fought, by the way."

"It's okay – wait, how do you know?"

Ryou smiled sheepishly, "You have a bruise on your face, Marik. Looks pretty nasty. It doesn't look too swollen, but you should put ice on it when you get home."

Marik blinked. He had forgotten all about the punch; he gingerly touched his jaw and winced. Ryou batted his hand away. "Don't touch it," he tutted. "We'll need to cover that up before we go and turn your job application in." He then grinned at him playfully, "Wouldn't want Tanaka-san to think you're a hooligan."

"Tanaka?"

"That's the woman that runs the shop."

Marik nodded. He had forgotten all about the floral shop he was planning on applying to; he wouldn't want the woman running the place to think he was a bad man. He wasn't entirely innocent, given his past, but she certainly didn't need to know that.

As they walked, the sky had begun to grow dark. The streetlights begun to turn on with the dimming of the atmosphere. Snow had begun to fall once more as well, adding even more layers to the white blanket. Marik found himself looking over at Ryou every so often. He wondered what the man thought about the previous night; he hadn't really mentioned anything other than the fight with the Spirit. Did he remember Marik's attempt to kiss him?

If he had, he obviously wasn't bothered by it because he was holding Marik's hand without qualm. But if he hadn't, then... well... he supposed he shouldn't try it again. He had to learn to control these emotions, even if it was difficult. He didn't want to ruin the relationship he had with the man by trying to make something more of it.

He truly hated being as emotionally stunted as he was. Perhaps he should give Ishizu a call and talk to her about it. He didn't know how his sister would react to it though. He never really outright told her that he was gay, and he wasn't sure if she even suspected it. The place where the hailed from was very strict regarding homosexuals and he didn't want to risk ruining the relationship he had managed to mend.

He was sure Rishid knew, considering how often the Spirit had come around during Battle City...

His thoughts were cut off by a squeal. Ryou had managed to slip on some ice, though Marik was quick to grip his hand harder and snatch out to grab his waist. Ryou gripped his shoulders and panted, his body tense from nearly falling. They lingered in this awkward stance before Marik was sure Ryou was balanced.

But even when he was, he didn't let go. Even when he had sure footing on the ice, he still held onto Marik. He was looking up at him, his eyes gleaming strangely. Red dusted his cheeks again – though Marik wasn't sure it it was because of the cold, or if it was because of what he did next.

A pair of lips met his, and this time, it wasn't the Spirit's.

These were familiar lips but the sensation was worlds different. Though the meeting was brief, Marik found that kissing Ryou brought on those tender, affectionate feelings. So unlike the Spirit's violent kisses that felt more like an assault.

But Marik barely had time to register the exchange. Their lips barely had come together before they were separated, and Ryou moved away from him entirely. He looked _terribly_ guilty as he pulled his hands away.

"Uh – sorry about that – I don't know what came over me," Ryou fumbled, repeating the apology as he backed away. "That was uncalled for."

He turned and tried to rush away, but Marik was darting after him. "Wait! Ryou –!" He called, reaching for his flatmate. Marik grabbed for his elbow, but in his haste he mostly succeeded in unbalancing the other man once more.

Within a matter of moments, they had successfully tumbled to the ground. Ryou landed in a pile of snow and ice with Marik practically falling on top of him. They both groaned, shaken from the fall. Marik rubbed his head and let out a pained noise. "Sorry," he grunted, his turn to apologize.

Ryou let out a shaky noise that sounded more like a squeak, "I-I'm fine. It's okay." The man seemed even more flustered than he was before, with a crimson dusted face and pursed lips.

Marik tipped his head a little, not moving at first. He was close enough to feel Ryou breathing against his chest and the warm breath escape his nose. He looked beautiful for a boy; his hair blended in with the snow, framing his cutesy, rounded face. Ryou touched his shoulders, pulling him out of his trance.

"Do you want me to move?" Marik asked, though it came out as nothing more than a whisper.

"I..." Ryou's voice faltered. He looked as if he was having an internal conflict, from the way his expression looked so strained. Marik was about to move on his own, but Ryou gripped his shoulders harder, roughly pulling him down.

It was an attempt to kiss him again. Ryou's face was coming towards his own very quickly. His breath was closer, his lips were puckered ever so slightly.

And then they both let out a pained noise as their noses bumped. Marik began rubbing where it felt sore, his eyes watering. Ryou begun groaning as well, muttering apologies under his breath. They looked at each other, both realizing how ridiculous this whole situation was.

And laughed. Marik and Ryou began laughing at each other, at themselves. At the irony, at the absurdity, of this entire exchange.

Marik settled after a few moments. Ryou only ended his own giggles as Marik took his cheek with his bare hand. He jumped a bit, presumably at Marik's cold fingers. His blushed skin felt warm beneath his frigid fingers as he cupped the skin in his palm. This time he went slow, no rushing, and no interruptions. Just him and Ryou.

Their mouths met, and the fourth time proved to be a charm. Their lips melded together well, and Marik felt the sensations he had prior, only they were amplified. The sheer amount of emotions overwhelmed him. It wasn't violent, or harsh. It wasn't laced with hatred and lust, it was soft and peaceful. It made him feel safe; while only their lips touched, it was as if he were in an embrace.

For a split moment, they weren't aware of the cold, or the darkening sky, or the elderly couple walking by and giving them a strange look. It was just _them_. When they separated, he stared down at Ryou for a long time before he genuinely smiled. It wasn't a smirk, it wasn't lop-sided, it wasn't fake, it was a true smile. He felt strangely giddy.

"...You're clumsy," he finally managed.

Ryou chuckled, not denying it in the slightest, "I've always been clumsy. I'm sorry I dragged you down with me."

"I'm glad you did." Another kiss followed this statement, which Ryou luckily had no objections to. He could truly get used to the way Ryou's supple lips moved so nicely against his own. It was their second exchange, and it was just as lovely as the first.

Marik wondered what this meant. Kissing usually lead to a relationship... but he had no desire to ask about that right now. He was just fine with where he was, laying against Ryou, despite the snow falling on them. He was... happy. Very happy.

They laid there for a long time. They were quiet, only sharing a few small pecks as time passed. Ryou had worked up the courage to wrap his arms around Marik's larger form. It wasn't until Ryou sneezed that Marik realized he had been crushing his friend into the snow, and guiltily struggled up, at once missing the heat of his romantic interest. Ryou assured him it was alright as he took the tanner man's outstretched man and stood up as well. Ryou leaned against his flatmate and took his hand again, which Marik obviously had no qualms with. Hand in hand, they walked away through the snow.

* * *

I've been waiting 11 chapters to write this. Holy crap.

The inspiration for the kissing scene was _Kiss Me Slowly_ by Parachute. Very cliche, but it's a sweet song, and it gives me the angstshipping feels.


	12. Chapter 12

It didn't take long for Ryou's cold to set in. After only twenty-four hours after returning home, he was a sneezing, sniffing mess. He had simply been out in the cold for too long, and it left him feeling absolutely awful. After twenty-four hours, he had taken a couple days off work and balled himself up in his bed with a thick comforter and a book, though he didn't do very much reading, his mind was simply racing far too much.

The scenario from the previous evening kept running through his head. Each time he thought about it, his face went hot. He touched his lips, remembering the softness of Marik's mouth against his own. It had been so surreal...

There was a rap at his bedroom door.

"Come in," he croaked. His normal meek voice was husky; it resembled the spirit's.

Marik edged his way into the room, almost sheepishly. "I have your tea," he handed Ryou the mug, who smiled in thanks.

Marik made it like Ryou had told him; lemon and honey, perfect for his sore throat. He took a drink, not minding that it tasted a little off. He was just thankful to have something warm and smooth go down his pained gullet.

"Do you need anything else?"

"Not in the time since you've last asked me, no."

"I was just making sure before I leave. I'm going to go and turn in that application, I just need the address."

Ryou nodded and rummaged through his bedside table and pulled out a notepad and an old pen. He gave it a few scribbles to be sure it worked before jotting down the street name. "I don't know the exact address, but it's the only flowershop on the block."

He took the slip of paper, but before he left Ryou continued. "On your way home, can you grab some take-out? My wallet is on the table near the front door." He smiled a little sheepishly, "I'm not well enough to cook..."

"Well, I could make something."

They both stared at each other before breaking out in snickers; they both knew that simply wasn't happening. Ryou then told himself he would have to dedicate certain days of the week to teaching Marik how to properly cook. He had been attempting lately, but it usually ended in certain disaster.

"I'll see you in a couple hours," Marik said, though he lingered for a few moments more. Ryou watched him, curious to what he was planning to do. He remained like this for what seemed like several minutes before he whipped around and vanished from the room.

Ryou sighed and leaned back against the pile of pillows.

_You're acting like a love-sick puppy and it's disgusting. _

Ryou scowled at the voice in his head, but like usual, he chose to ignore it. He knew the malevolent Spirit of the Ring wouldn't bother taking his body over at the moment, he was simply too sick. The Spirit would get no joy in controlling such an ill vessel.

_It's your fault for having a shit immune system._

"It's your fault for leaving my unconscious body in the snow!" Ryou snapped, then flinched at his aching throat. Deciding that he didn't want to deal with the pain, he recoiled into the fluffy covers of his bed and began to nap. His dreams, as usual, were dark and cryptic, though he kept seeing flashes of gold and purple.

…

Napping proved futile. He actually felt worse than he did before his sleep. With a yawn, he pushed himself weakly out of bed and went to answer the call of nature.

"You're awake," Marik observed as he padded tiredly into the living room. The man was perched on the couch working on some drawings.

Ryou leaned against the back of the couch and looked over Marik's shoulder to see what he was drawing. He was sketching a half-wilted flower that sat crooked in a glass on the coffee table. Seeing the flower, he decided to ask, "How did turning in that application go?"

"Very good!" Marik piped, setting the drawing aside. "Tanaka looked over it while I was there and said that she wants to have an actual interview with me."

"That's great!" Ryou praised, though he cut off with a bout of coughs, drawing a worried look from his (love interest?) flatmate.

"You shouldn't be out of bed."

"I got bored."

Ryou moved around the couch and slid into the cushions. He kept his distance from his (love interest?) flatmate and said, "I'll give you some tips on interviews. What time is the interview?"

"It's on Thursday at ten."

Ryou nodded and bit his lip; two days... not a lot of time. He would need to help Marik find an outfit and teach him the dos and don'ts of job interviews. He supposed he'll do that later though; his mind was so ridiculously fuzzy that he was surprised he remembered who Marik even was.

Marik stood and went for the kitchen, claiming he would get the take-out that he stuck in the oven to keep warm. He returned with plates piled with curry and rice. "I got Indian," he explained, setting the plate in front of Ryou. "Don't worry, yours is mild," he added with an attractive wink that made Ryou stare downwards in a flustered manner.

He managed to get the food down between deep gulps of tea and water. At the end of the meal, Ryou gave a small covered belch and thanked Marik for getting the food.

"It's no problem. You're the one that paid for it," Marik said as he finished his own plate. "I'll have to pay you back for all of this if I get that job."

"Don't worry about it," Ryou gave him a sweet smile. It was Marik's turn to face away, his face somewhat flustered, though the degree was far less than Ryou.

They sat in silence before Ryou sighed, "Do you want to do something?"

Marik frowned as he flipped through the TV channels for the umpteenth time in an attempt to find something to watch. "Like what? There isn't much you can do."

"Let's play a video game."

"What game?"

Ryou bit his lip and thought about it. Most of his games were, unfortunately, in English, which meant Marik wouldn't be able to understand them. In the end he guessed it didn't matter though as long as he could explain the controls and plot. "Go over to the PlayStation and put a game called 'Resident Evil five' in."

Marik followed his instructions and grabbed the controllers. He kept one for himself and handed the other to Ryou, who took it graciously.

The volume blared as the game began.

"So, what's this game about?" He asked as Ryou started a new game.

"It's about a zombie apocalypse. It's a very good game, and it's good on multi-player... supposedly."

"Have you never played the multi-player version of it?"

Ryou smiled sheepishly as he began controlling Chris Redfield. "Well... I tried to get Yugi to play with me once, but that was long ago..." he sighed and shook his head.

He and Yugi had once hung out quite often, but then the other boy would come over less and less... In all honestly, he hadn't seen Yugi since they graduated, since the man had went with Anzu to America. He wondered if it would be worth the effort to call him.

Marik struggled as he controlled his own character. He kept walking her into buildings and soon he grew frustrated with her before the first mission even began. "Ugh! These controls are infuriating. And her ass is huge." He added with a frown.

Ryou chuckled, "Well, it is a video game, woman usually have large... assets." He decided the word after a moment. "Just use the left joystick to move, and use the right one to look around. Use them at the same time."

Marik did this, and made a noise of victory as he properly controlled Sheva Alomar. Finally, they actually began the first mission, to which was incredibly difficult to a novice gamer like Marik. He struggled to shoot and to aim. Ryou had to do most of the fighting, defending, and healing. He was thankful he had went with easy mode; normally he went with hard on any video game, because he enjoyed the challenge.

But this wasn't about the challenge; he wanted to spend time with his (love interest?) flatmate. He laughed whenever Marik cursed infuriatingly at the screen whenever he got killed, or whenever he ran out of ammo (which was quite often). Ryou opted for using his knife and gave his ammo to Marik. He easily cut the hoards of zombies down with just his knife, while Marik yelled and cursed over constantly missing every shot.

They had fun though. Despite Marik's temper, he spend a good amount of time laughing. Ryou translated anything that was said, usually in a goofy voice. It hurt his throat to do this, but it tickled Marik to near tears, so he continued despite the soreness.

It took them several hours to get to the first boss, though by then they were content with constantly dying, because they were having a blast. Marik turned into a screaming mess as the boss, The Executioner (a large, terrifying zombie with a hood and a giant ax-like weapon) chased after his character.

"Take that!" He yelled as he fruitlessly shot at the boss. It took them at least a dozen tries (due to Marik's recklessness and constant dying) to properly beat the boss.

Before they started the next chapter, Ryou set the controller down and looked to Marik. "I'm cold," he complained with a shiver.

Marik jumped up and went to retrieve a blanket. When he returned, Ryou gestured for Marik to sit next to him. Marik did this a little hesitantly, though Ryou moved surprisingly quick as he took the blanket and bundled them both in it.

He leaned against his (love interest?) flatmate's form. He looked up at Marik's face to check for signs of discomfort. He saw none, so he snuggled into the side of his arm and took his controller back into his hands.

"I, er, won't sick sitting so close to you right?" Marik finally said after Ryou translated the cutscene.

"I'll be careful not to cough or sneeze on you," he said, "Though I can move if you want."

Marik settled back against the couch and leaned his head against Ryou's, "No... this is fine."

Their close proximity made Ryou's heart race, though he still felt completely at ease. He didn't know one could feel so absolutely comfortable in the presence of another. He let out a content sigh, letting Marik's heat warm his cold, peaked body.

He remembered this feeling; he had felt it when sat in the arms of his mother, nestled against his kid sister. Her soft voice as she read them bed-time stories about brave princes' and beautiful princesses always lulled him into a comforting sleep. Amane had loved listening to the stories where the prince would save the princess by defeating the dragon. Ryou had liked hearing about the dragons; they were so cool!

He sighed, becoming lost in memories for a moment. That had been so long ago; he had forgotten the overwhelming sense of safety and security that he had felt in the arms of his mother.

Ryou paused the game, earning a confused look from his (love interest?) flatmate. He set the controller to the side and wedged his way into Marik's arms. He wasn't normally so bold, but the idea of an embrace from the man was beckoning him.

Marik seemed perplexed at first, but he then welcomed the fluff into his arms. Ryou felt the pair of strong arms go around his lithe frame, pulling him up against his chest. If he were a cat, he would have purred as Marik's warmth spread through him. He wrapped his arms around the others waist, securing his comfortable position against the tanned form.

Ryou sighed through his mouth and buried his face into the others chest. His own heart fluttered within his rib cage, leaving him feeling light. There was a true sense of comfort being within the arms of his potential love interest. He squeezed the man's waist when the thought crossed him; perhaps he should ask about their... relationship?

He looked up and saw Marik was staring down at him with such warm eyes he immediately forgot what he was going to say. Instead, he shifted into a better position so their faces were level, and he leaned in for another kiss... but a finger pressing against his lips stopped him.

He made the smallest noise of complaint, and Marik snickered as he pulled his finger away. "I can't risk getting sick, Ryou. I have that interview Thursday."

Ryou sighed in agreement, "Sorry... that was rather inappropriate."

He laughed carelessly and took Ryou's hand within his own. Red dusted his tan cheeks as he brought the pale hand up to his face and pressed his lips against one of the knuckles, causing Ryou's own face to light up even more.

Ryou decided he didn't need to ask where their relationship was going. He just let Marik kiss his hand and allowed himself to feel completely at ease.

…

"You don't have to come with me you know."

Ryou gave an eye roll as he pulled his thick scarf tighter around his neck.

"I want you to be successful on this interview. I'm going to make sure you get good clothes."

"You're still sick. Besides, I can find some clothes of my own. You don't have to come with me to find interview clothes; I'm not that fashionably impaired!"

Ryou gave him a scrutinizing look, "You aren't going to get a job wearing a purple crop-top and leather pants."

It was Marik's turn to roll his eyes. He pulled on his coat and left the apartment with Ryou right behind him. Before his could shove his hands in his pockets to keep his fingers warm, Marik took one of his hands in his own.

"You shouldn't be out walking in this weather," Marik told him with a worried frown.

"I'm properly bundled up." Ryou smiled over at his (love interest?) flatmate, "And your hand is warm."

Marik squeezed his hand in response to that. It didn't take long for them to make it to downtown Domino. Normally it wouldn't be very busy on a Wednesday afternoon, but with Christmas fast approaching, there were many people out shopping. Ryou tried not to allow himself to feel self-conscious from the occasional stares the two were getting from holding hands; public displays of affection was already frowned upon, and it didn't help that they were both male. He shot Marik a side-long glance, but the man seemed fairly ignorant to the negative attention.

Ryou pointed out a store that he knew sold cheap but good clothes. The two of them moved into the store and Marik immediately rushed through the racks to find something.

He had grown tired from the walk due to his sick body, but he forced himself to be dragged around by Marik anyway.

Again, he felt a prickling unease at the looks he was getting from other people. He wasn't used to affection, let alone affection in public where other people could see. However, he kept his discomfort to himself. If people couldn't deal with them holding hands he would simply just have to ignore them.

But he couldn't help but wonder; how long will Marik intend to hold his hand? He wondered this in a broader sense. Did Marik have any intention of becoming romantically involved with him? He hadn't said anything about it. The two of them had kissed, cuddled, and now were holding hands, and Marik seemingly had absolutely no qualms with any of that. Yet, he hadn't brought any of it up, as if it slipped his memory, or as if the interaction and affection they were giving each other meant absolutely nothing.

His mind raced. He desperately wanted to share these thoughts with Marik, but the poor man probably had enough on his mind.

He was startled from his thoughts when the previously mentioned man nudged him with his shoulder and held up a purple button-up. "How about this?"

Ryou looked over the top then nodded. "That could work."

"Should I try it on?"

"Go ahead."

They went to the fitting rooms. Ryou was prepared to detach from Marik, but the man continued to hold his hand. He tried to pull him into the cubicle, but Ryou edged away, looking uncomfortable.

"I don't, uh, have to go with you. I can wait out here!"

Marik shrugged and closed the door. Ryou then headed back into the main part of the store. He liked the button up, but just wearing that might be too... plain. He riffled through some racks and shelves before returning to the fitting rooms with a black and silver striped tie, and a black vest. He tossed them over the door and giggled when he heard a startled complaint.

"Try those on too!" He shouted through the door, then broke off with a few dry coughs.

He leaned against the wall as he waited. It wasn't long before the door creaked open, and his eyes nearly bulged at the sight of his friend.

He sleeves of his top were rolled up to his elbows, and the vest remained unbuttoned, giving him an incredibly stylish yet casual look. Ryou reddened as his eyes raked over the sight; Marik was truly attractive, and it made him practically melt.

"Uh, Ryou?" He asked with a nervous laugh, "Are you okay? I don't look that bad do I?"

Ryou gave an awkward laugh that hurt his throat. "No, no... in fact, I think it looks quite the opposite."

He smirked a bit, "Thanks. Would you mind putting on my tie? I actually have no clue how to put it on... I've never worn one."

Ryou laughed more genuinely this time and slipped over to Marik, "Yeah... sure." He stood close to the stunning man and tended to his tie. Each time his hands brushed against him, he felt a jolt of electricity pass through him. As he gazed at the tan man, he was tempted to lean in and kiss him, but he couldn't risk making Marik sick.

Ryou forced himself to take a step back. The tie completed the look, making him look somehow even more attractive than before.

"You look great..."

Marik laughed and tugged a bit at the tie. "Thanks... do you think it'll be okay for the interview?"

"If Tanaka-san sees you in that and doesn't hire you on the spot, then she's crazy."

There was more laughter as Marik retreated into the fitting room. He appeared a few minutes later in his normal clothes, the other ones bundled in his arms. They went to check out, to which Marik sighed and looked away as Ryou paid. When they left the store, Marik resolved that he would pay Ryou back.

"Don't worry about it," Ryou told him as they held hands once again, making his chest flutter.

"I'm not a bad man anymore, Ryou. I refuse to steal from you."

"But you haven't been stealing. I've been willingly paying for things for you."

Marik halted, causing Ryou to as well, "And I still don't understand why!" He sounded frustrated. "All I've done is impose on your life."

"You should know by now that I don't see your existence in my life 'imposing'."

Marik's hand slid away from Ryou's, and he looked down at the bag he was holding in disgust. "I feel no better than I did when I was a murderer and a thief."

"Don't say that!" Marik' head snapped up at the intensity of Ryou' words. "Don't say that, Marik! You aren't who you used to be, and don't assume you are. You aren't the man that ruled over the Ghouls. You aren't the man who hurt, manipulated and murdered." It hurt his throat to speak so much, but he couldn't help it. He glared at his friend as he spoke.

Marik looked confused and conflicted.

"Thank you..." He finally muttered. Ryou sighed; he could tell he hadn't gotten through to him.

At the risk of spreading his cold to Marik, he moved closer and pressed his lips against the other man's. He ignored the stares he got from bystanders as he allowed himself to melt into the kiss for only a moment before pulling away.

"Don't bring yourself down, Marik." He repeated gently, "And don't pay me back for things I willingly get for you. You aren't stealing from me. You aren't a murderer, or a thief." Ryou then smiled and took both Marik's hands within his own, giving them both a squeeze to cement what he had said.

Marik looked stunned, but then he gave Ryou a shaky smile.

This time, he sounded genuine as he murmured, "Thank you."

* * *

Resident Evil 5 is a good game. I've beat it twice with my friend.

Anyways, happy Halloween!


End file.
